Castles and Kingdoms
by Fushigi Kismet
Summary: Serenity, Princess of Reyre, has enough to worry about with Prince Endymion of Dalayne's visit. But when her kingdom is attacked, everything becomes a very dangerous game of castles and kingdoms. [incomplete]
1. Chapter One: Introductions

Disclaimer: Sailor Moon does not belong to me. It belongs to Naoko   
Takeuchi and a great many wonderful people who, if they were so   
inclined, could make things very unpleasant for me. (However, they   
are all MUCH too generous and benevolent to do any such thing.) This   
is a work of fiction and while the original idea does not belong to   
me, this story does. Remember that, because if you don't, I'm   
sending the Senshi after you . . . .  
  
Hi, minna! The idea for this came to me a long time ago in a dream.   
However, I just recently decided to write this story, since I became   
rather inspired by Crystal Heart's "Masquerade". This has *nothing*   
to do with any of my other 'fics. (Part One of the Prequel to "Past   
Loves" *will* be out hopefully sometime soon. I'll be continuing "In   
Another Life: The Legend's Beginning" and am hoping to get started on   
a couple more of my 'fics. Thank you for your patience.) This story   
is set in an alternate universe, if it is not immediately apparent.   
Oh yes, please forgive me my thees and thous.  
  
This is for all of my dearest friends. Minna, you know who you are.   
And to Jay-chan, the best Oneechan anyone could ask for, for her   
*extraordinary* patience in waiting for her birthday 'fic, which I am   
STILL working on. ^^;;;  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
~How many lives can one person live? In the case of some . . . the   
number is infinite.~  
  
  
Fairy tales? Why of course they're real! Don't be silly, dear.  
They exist right there. Where? In your heart of course. Just  
because you can't see them doesn't mean that they're not true. Every  
story is as true as you want it to be . . . Hmmm? You want to hear  
a *true* fairy tale? All right then, this is a tale of a princess  
and her prince . . . No, you haven't heard this one before, I assure   
you. It's brand new, right off the top of my head. How can it be   
true then? Because it is . . . it is . . . It's true for me and it   
can be true for you too . . . if you let it. Now settle back and   
don't interrupt. This is a long one . . .  
  
This is a tale of a princess and her prince, and all of their friends   
too . . . And of the evil that descended upon their kingdoms and   
threatened their happiness . . . And of course, of the journeys that   
they had to make and the quests they had to go through to regain that   
happiness . . .  
  
  
Castles and Kingdoms  
  
by Fushigi Kismet  
  
  
~Chapter One~  
Introductions  
  
  
  
"What art thou waiting for?! Come over here!" a voice shouted,   
laughingly.  
Holding in her own laughter, Lady Immara galloped her horse over,   
amidst a flurry of green skirts. "Honestly, Your Highness, thou art   
so impatient! I'd think that a princess of Reyre would have more   
patience." The words were chiding, but her green eyes sparkled with   
laughter and good humor.  
The princess gazed back at her fellow noblewoman and second   
cousin, her eyes equally as bright and her face flushed, but with   
excitement, not shame. "Immie, thou doth get worse every day! Thou   
art beginning to sound like Monica!"  
"Ah, if thou wast anyone else, I would take great offense at that.   
However, thou *art* my cousin and my princess. Family is important   
to me, after all." He voice was soft as she said the last.  
The princess instantly sobered, all trace of laughter leaving her   
eyes. "I didn't mean to upset thee, dear. Please don't be sad. I   
*am* thy family now, remember?"  
Immara looked up and wiped a few stray tears from her eyes. "Thou   
art a dear friend and the closest that I'll ever get to a true   
sister. Thank thee, Serenity."  
Princess Serenity brushed her thanks aside. "Forget it. We're   
*family*, Immara. And don't thou forget that."  
Immara smiled. She smiled more when Serenity proclaimed, "Enough   
riding for the day! I've become bored. 'Tis time to head back to   
the castle, is it not?"  
"Yes, it seems so. However, I sense it is not boredom that calls   
thee home, dearest. Is it not the memory of the sweet chimes of   
dinner bell that harkens thee in haste to return?"  
Serenity frowned a little at her friend. "Now, don't go saying   
that *I* cannot skip a meal-ah, and easily too-from time to time.   
Thou makest me out to be some manner of gluttonous beast! Thy   
remarks are quite cruel."  
"'Tis not to be cruel, darling. 'Tis only . . . I've seen thee   
eat."  
"Ah!" Serenity cried sharply. "Thou hath hurt me to the quick. I   
shan't forgive you for that one . . . unless you race me to the   
forest gate!" She cried the last aloud as she dug her heels a little   
into her horse, and galloped off down the trail.  
"Serenity! Wait up! Thy races art never fair! Thou always gives   
thyself a head start! What would thy mother say?! Thou wilt hurt   
thyself, Serenity!" Immara exclaimed, riding quickly after her.  
Serenity laughed. "Thou soundst *just* like Monica!"  
Startled, she fumbled with the reigns and the horse faltered   
uncertainly in it's stride, stopping, as his rider yelled, wisps of   
auburn hair flying about her face, "I do NOT! Now, look . . . I've   
fallen behind! 'Twas a low blow, Princess."  
The Princess of Reyre smiled back, amused. "No, silly . . . 'twas   
quick thinking! Now . . . thou wilt just have to catch up!"  
  
* * *  
  
The two women raced past a band of weary men and horses at the   
forest gate, nearly colliding with the group of five men in front,   
but managing to direct her horse aside just in time. "Sorry!"   
Serenity cried, galloping past, her loose golden hair cascading   
behind her in a shower of sun-glinted gold.  
"Pardon!" Immara yelled, laughing, red-brown hair bouncing about   
her shoulders. "Princess! Wait up!"  
"Jadyrn," Endymion said quietly, his eyes on Serenity's slender   
figure riding off on her horse.  
"Yes?" his aide-de-camp, a lesser lord posing as his "Guardian,"   
asked.  
"That girl . . . I wish to make her acquaintance."  
"As thou wishes, Sire." The man turned his gaze to look after the   
girl, a studied expression on his face beneath the blonde hair, and   
solemnity in his blue eyes.  
  
* * *  
  
"I won!" Serenity declared, as she and Immara reined in their   
horses in the palace courtyard in front of the stables. She   
dismounted and handed her horse over to a stable boy.  
"What dost thou mean?" Immara protested, dismounting and handing   
her horse to another stable boy. "I got here first!"  
"Ah-ah-ah," Serenity wagged her finger. "The race was to the   
forest gate and I won."  
"Only because there were all of those men there and I couldn't   
maneuver!"  
"Excuses, excuses. I'll race thee to dinner!" The princess   
gathered up her skirts and ran off towards the dining hall.  
"Serenity!" Immara groaned, then followed her errant princess.   
"Wait 'til I catch thee!"  
  
* * *  
  
The night was dark as the slow moving band of men reached the same   
castle that the princess and her cousin had reached hours ago.  
Just my luck one of the horses had to throw a shoe, Endymion   
thought, disgruntled.  
He dismounted swiftly, tossing the mount's reins to Jadyrn   
who caught them expertly and flashed his prince a rare smile.   
"Tired, my Liege?"  
"Can you doubt it? Two weeks of riding . . . Who wouldn't be?"  
"Indeed." Jadyrn hid another smile as he tended to the horse,   
stroking his long dark nose. "There, there, Darius. Thou shalt be   
in a nice stall with some good hay and oats to bide thee by soon. If   
thou art a good horse, mayhap, I shalt bring thee a carrot later."  
The horse behind him whinnied in annoyance. Jadyrn turned,   
looking at the horse with an actual boyish smile and Endymion could   
almost think of Jadyrn as being his own age instead of seven years   
his senior. "No, I did not forget thee, Ravius. I shalt bring thee   
a carrot as well."  
The bay horse snorted and shook his head up and down vigorously,   
causing Endymion to smile. "Thou hast such a way with animals,   
Jadyrn. 'Tis a wonder thou art not Master of the Hunt."  
Jadyrn's eyes narrowed and he turned away. "'Twas not as though   
the position was not offered me by thy late father. I refused, of   
course. My duty is to guard thee and the animals can get along very   
well without me." The words "as thou cannot" were left unsaid.  
Instead, Endymion answered with a mild, "Indeed," to which Jadyrn   
made no reply, merely leading the two horses away.  
Endymion sighed in frustration as he watched his Guardian Lord go.   
"What's the matter with him?!"  
Nephrayn appeared behind him, clapping his prince lightly on his   
armored shoulder. "Seven years with him and thou still canst not   
understand the man, eh, Prince?"  
Endymion turned with a grimace. "Nay, not a bit. And thou? Dost   
thou understand him better?"  
Nephrayn shook his head reluctantly. "I fought in the wars with   
him. Two years together. We slept in the same tent, ate the same   
bread, fought the same battle, watching each other's backs as we   
went. The ground was hard, the food was hard, and the fighting was   
hard . . . and still, I know no more about him than thee."  
"Two years?" Endymion murmured. "Did the war change him much?"  
Here, Nephrayn frowned. "Hardly. He is the same hard,   
emotionless self that he ever was. If he has ever been different,   
then it was before I knew him."  
"Well, then we shall never know." Endymion threw his hands into   
the air.  
"Not so," Nephrayn interjected, wagging a finger at his prince.   
"Kunzyn knew him as a child. They lived in the same village when   
they were but lads. Kunzyn, of course, was called away to the wars   
two years before Jadyrn, so there are two years unaccounted for, but   
he, if anyone, will know the story."  
Endymion rolled his eyes. "I suppose that he will direct us to   
Zoyzer for the answers?"  
"Nay. Zoyzer knew only Kunzyn before we joined your service,   
Sire."  
"How dost thou KNOW all this?!" Endymion demanded.  
Nephrayn gestured vaguely. "The stars know everything."  
"And thou art an incurable gossip."  
"Well, that too . . ."  
Endymion looked exasperatedly at his Guardian Lord and gestured.   
"Hurry, or we'll be late!"  
"Why hurry?" Nephrayn asked innocently. "We should enjoy the   
night air. We've already missed dinner."  
"And how dost thou know *that*?!" Endymion asked, pausing in his   
stride to glance back at the slightly taller man.  
"As I said before, the stars know all . . . and the torches for   
the dining hall seem to have been recently lighted and extinguished."  
Endymion groaned, hearing his stomach growl in protest.  
  
* * *  
The next morning, after an early breakfast, skipping the main meal   
with everyone . . .  
* * *  
  
The two of them casually strolled down the hallway, light   
filtering through the elaborate scaffolding covering the roof and   
making strange patterns on the tiled floor. Serenity's attention was   
captured by the light, and as she walked, she gazed absorbedly at the   
floor.  
After they had walked in silence for a time, she spoke up, still   
watching the floor (and incidentally, her steps). "Immara, I do not   
see why we must meet with these strangers."  
"Thou knowst perfectly well that it is required that we meet with   
them . . . it *is* proper etiquette . . ."  
Serenity sighed. "If thou doth say so. Still, I have ne'er heard   
of them before."  
Immara's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Thou must have . . .   
Dalayne is a center of much commerce. Its ports art well visited by   
traders. The kingdom itself is quite wealthy and of good standing   
and the Prince's reputation is not so little that thou wouldst not   
have heard of him. Think hard, Serenity. Hast thou not met him   
before now?"  
Serenity considered for a moment, then shook her head decidedly.   
"Nay, Immie, not a wit, not a word."  
"Surely he brought something to thy Royal Nameday celebration . .   
. ?"  
"I was but one year old. How am I to recall?! Besides, he would   
not have been of such a great age himself at the time. Mayhap the   
Kingdom of Dalayne neglected to send a messenger and gift?" the   
Princess suggested.  
"What dost thou say? Not send a messenger or gift? That would be   
adding insult to injury . . . Dalayne would not chance it. Kingdoms   
have gone to war for less."  
"Over a Nameday present?" Serenity asked, incredulously. "Thou   
canst not be serious."  
"Aye, indeed I am. No kingdom would accept such a slight . . .   
though, mayhap, Their Highnesses overlooked the transgression."   
Immara tapped her lips with her finger before her eyes lighted up and   
she turned to the Princess excitedly. "Perhaps the party from   
Dalayne has come to deliver thy present now! Thy sixteenth Nameday   
is in a bare fortnight. The gifts shall be revealed then . . . They   
must have realized the error of their ways and brought their offering   
just in time for the unveiling . . ."  
"Thou art *definitely* letting thy imagination run away with   
thee."  
Immara voiced a confused, "Huh?" just as Serenity swept past her.   
"It is simply some matter that Dalayne wishes to resolve with my   
father. Nothing more."  
"Hmmph!" Immara pouted. "Princess, thou art no fun today!"  
"I don't want to be fun. I don't want to think about the   
strangers. Thinking about all of this nonsense makes my head hurt.   
All I want to do is saddle up the horses and go for a nice ride in   
the country."  
"Princess, thou canst not simply ignore politics forever. Or thy   
duties, for that matter. Thou art the Princess of a vast kingdom.   
Thy people wilt depend on thee for guidance someday."  
"Someday," the Princess sighed. Her expression brightened. "But   
not today!"  
The brunette noblewoman could not keep from laughing. "What a   
silly girl thou art!"  
She bowed swiftly, her eyes shimmering with girlish delight.   
"Well, thou *didst* say that thou did find my company dull to-day, so   
I shall lighten things up for thee. Art thou up for a ride?"  
"Most certainly, Your Highness." A devilish expression appeared   
on Immara's face. "I'll race thee to the horses!" She took off.  
Serenity stared after her friend, displeasure written all over her   
face. "How odd. She seems to be taking after me . . . IMMIE!!!!   
WAIT!!!!!"  
  
* * *  
  
Serenity and Immara rode along the paths that they had worn down   
over the past several years. Beautiful green countryside surrounded   
them on all sides, gurgling streams, sunny green woods. Serenity   
shut her eyes and tilted her face up to the bright sunshine which   
shone down on her, strands of her hair shining like golden rivers.  
"Thou shalt not have this for long." Immara's expression grew   
bleak.  
"Whyever not?" Serenity asked innocently, opening her eyes.  
"One day soon, thy father shalt arrange a betrothal for thee and   
marry thee off."  
The young princess made a face. "How dreadful! Marry a man that   
I do not know? Never! I refuse!"  
"Thou canst not *refuse.* Thou art a princess . . . and   
princesses marry."  
"But must it be for convenience alone? For the alliances forged   
between two nations? Or can it be for love?" Serenity asked   
wistfully.  
"Thou knows the answer to that as well as I. No marriages for   
women of our rank arise from love. Politics rule our lives. 'Tis a   
sad fact, but a true one."  
"But I have ne'er thought of marrying a man I do not love . . .   
let alone marrying at all!"  
Immara was a bit surprised by this. Surely the princess had   
considered the future . . . "Hast thou never thought of marriage?"  
"Scarcely."  
That was not entirely true. She had heard of her parents speaking   
of it three nights before . . .  
  
She had been walking down the hallway when she had passed the   
slightly open door to her father's study. Overhearing voices, she   
had stopped to investigate, peeking through the door. Her mother and   
father were arguing.  
"Lucent," her mother exclaimed, "I do not see why this is   
necessary. She's just a child!"  
"Girls younger than she are married! Sere is old enough to wed,   
Selenity. Thou knows that as well as I."  
"But, how can we force her into this marriage? Why can't we just   
wait and let her meet someone . . . fall in love?"  
"Marriage is not about love. It is about politics. Thou didst   
not love me when thou married me and thou dost not love me now."  
"It is true." Selenity's voice was high and quiet.  
"That is not to say that I am not proud of having such a beautiful   
and accomplished wife . . . Selenity. But . . . thou dost not love   
me."  
"But, I love my daughter!"  
"She is our daughter and I decide what's best for her."  
"Why thou? Why not me? I'm her mother!"  
"And I'm her father! Selenity . . . please, thou knowst what lies   
ahead. I just . . . I just want Sere to be protected. I just want   
her to stay out of danger. She needs someone there to take care of   
her."  
"She can take care of herself! Why, there's not a man in the   
kingdom that can outride her."  
"Riding's not good enough. She can't fight, and fighting's what's   
needed. I only want the best for her."  
Selenity turned away. "Why? Why can't thou just leave her be?   
She's happy! What more is there to want for her? What more can we   
do? Why can't she stay my little girl forever? Why can't she stay   
safe here?"  
"Because she can't, Selenity. Because she can't."  
Serenity had left then, as her mother sobbed and her father   
watched impassively.  
  
"Marriage," Serenity declared, "is a terrible institution."  
Immara simply shook her head, smiling. "Not so terrible,  
Serenity. One day . . . thou shalt see the truth of the matter."  
Serenity rolled her eyes. "Never, Immie," she vowed. "The day I  
decide to marry is the day I learn to fly!"  
"Love oft times makes people feel like they have been  
indulging in flight."  
Serenity shot Immara a *look*. "And how wouldst *thou* know?"  
Immara shut her mouth abruptly and blushed, eliciting a giggle  
from her princess. She sent her horse racing with a touch of the  
reins and a gentle kick. "Not one word to you, Your Highness. Not  
one word."  
"Come now, Immara, tell me!" Serenity cried, urging her own steed forward.  
They rode, friendly banter being tossed about between them, until  
Serenity finally caught up and gave in to her friend's obstinance.  
  
* * *  
  
Serenity arrived home. Immara was called off to other duties so   
the princess decided to visit her gardens. While crossing a  
courtyard, she stopped short. Who is that?  
The armored man leaned casually against the wall, twirling a dark   
red rose in his fingers.  
"I am Crown Prince Endymion of Dalayne."  
Serenity stared bemused for a moment that he had answered her  
unasked question, then curtsied elegantly and said with a charmingly   
enchanting smile, "I remember thee! I passed thee on my ride last   
night. I am terribly sorry about that. I was in quite a hurry and   
did not see thee and thy party."  
"'Tis quite all right." Endymion straightened and bowed swiftly,   
presenting the rose to Serenity.  
She took it with another smile. "Thou art quite gallant, Lord  
Prince."  
"How else should one act in the presence of a lady?"  
"Oh! Where have my manners flown to? I have not introduced   
myself. I am Crown Princess Serenity of Reyre."  
He caught her hand and brushed his lips across it. "I know."  
His intense dark blue eyes met her amused bright blue ones, as she   
said, pulling away her hand, "Doth thee now?"  
"I do."  
"Then I shalt see thee tonight at the ball, Lord Prince of   
Dalayne."  
"Even so, Lady Princess of Reyre. Do save me a dance, my lady."   
He bowed and bent over her hand again.  
"Mayhap, I will. Mayhap, I won't. We shall see."  
"That we shall." Once more he kissed her hand, then let it go,   
pressing the rose into it.  
"Mayhap . . . one," she whispered, hastening away.  
Endymion allowed a brief smile to cross his face, his dark blue   
eyes sparkling with barely contained amusement. Quite timid, art   
thou? Well . . . one is enough for now, Princess. We shall proceed   
slowly for now. And then, finally, I shall be able to profess this   
love that I have for thee . . . have always had for thee . . . from   
the first time I set eyes on thee . . . so long ago. Dost thou   
remember me, Princess? Or am I but a dream to thee, a half forgotten   
dream lingering at the edges of thy sleep? Pray . . . I am more than   
that, Princess. My dearest, most beautiful, Serenity. Shall I call   
thee that once more? The name that has not passed from mine lips for   
a decade? Serenity . . .  
His midnight blue eyes stared after her, filled with an aching   
longing to run up to her and hold her fast to him, never letting go.   
Serenity . . .  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
Short, I know, but the best I could do without giving away too much   
plot. Trust me . . . this is *not* your ordinary love story. At   
least, I hope not. ^_^  
  
  



	2. Chapter Two: New Arrivals

Disclaimer: Sailor Moon does not belong to me. It belongs to Naoko  
Takeuchi and a great many wonderful people who, if they were so  
inclined, could make things very unpleasant for me. (However, they   
are all MUCH too generous and benevolent to do any such thing.) This   
is a work of fiction and while the original idea does not belong to   
me, this story does. Remember that, because if you don't, I'm   
sending the Senshi after you . . . .  
  
  
Castles and Kingdoms  
  
by Fushigi Kismet  
  
  
Chapter Two:  
~New Arrivals~  
  
  
  
As Serenity hurried away (to where, she had no idea, her thoughts  
completely and utterly taken up with her charming new companion), the   
rose held firmly in her hand, its sweet scent wafting up to her, a   
riotous racket caught the attention of her ears. Deciding to   
investigate, she altered her course and headed to the main courtyard.   
As she passed through the stone passage between the courtyard that   
she was currently in and the other one, a familiar voice drifted   
through the air to her direction, stopping her in her tracks.  
"No, no, NO! Take *THAT* trunk down first! The other ones are   
just luggage, that contains my *belongings*!"  
"Lady, do you want to do this?" a man asked, bent over, his arms   
full of an *ENORMOUS* trunk, that he had obviously just taken down   
from atop the carriage that rested in the courtyard, the seven black   
horses pulling it, pawing and snorting anxiously.  
She frowned. "That is Lady Artana M'erla Naava Adora D'amour of   
the Second House of Reyre."  
"Yeah, okay. Sorry." He set the trunk down, and the resulting   
sound resounded like a cannonshot (which none present had ever heard,   
seeing as only *pirates* possessed any cannons) throughout the   
courtyard.  
Serenity jumped, then self consciously composed herself, smoothing   
out her dress and patting her hair to make sure that it was behaving   
itself. Then she rushed forward without regard for protocol,   
yelling, "TANA!"  
The woman whirled, blonde hair whirling about her form, sky blue   
eyes filling with affection and excitement. "Eren!"  
Serenity zoomed past the man who was taking down an even LARGER   
trunk and asking, "This one?" As the princess brushed past him, he   
nearly fell over, but recovered his balance just in time.  
"Tana!" Serenity screamed again.  
"Eren!" the woman responded in equal joy as they embraced happily,   
the older woman good-naturedly mussing up the younger princess's   
hair.  
"Arrgh! My hair! Tana!" Serenity shrieked, frantically trying to   
smooth down the mess.  
The other woman laughed. "Nice to see that thou hast not changed,   
Eren."  
"I'm sorry I can't say the same for thee!" Serenity stuck out her   
tongue.  
"Careful. Thou might bite it off," the blonde said lightly.  
"Hmmph! Ow!"  
Artana threw her head back and laughed.  
Serenity fumed. Then she took in her cousin's appearance. She   
had grown a good two inches since last she had seen her, and her hair   
was longer as well. She wore it loose but for the bit of hair   
gathered from each side and braided together. A blue ribbon tied the   
braid off. It matched her sky-blue silk dress. She wore long pearl-  
drop earrings and an emerald pendant around her neck. She looked   
every inch a lady but for the wicked sparkle in her eyes.  
"What hast become of thee, Tana?" Serenity asked in wonder. "Thou   
hast grown up!"  
Her cousin looked at her sadly. "If thou truly believest that,   
then thou needs more help than I can give thee!"  
"Tana!" Serenity said sharply, only partly reassured by her   
cousin's levity. Looking off to one side, her eyes lit open the   
largest trunk and she piped up excitedly, "What didst thou bring me,   
Tana? Tell me, tell me!"  
"Thou art a child at Gift Day!" The woman clucked her tongue.   
"What makes thee think that I brought thee anything at all?"  
"'Tis almost my Nameday! Thou didst not forget, didst thou?" she   
asked anxiously.  
Artana hesitated an instant before winking. "Didst thou think   
that I could *forget*?!"  
Serenity debated whether or not she could beat up on her friend,   
but decided that if she did then she would most likely not receive   
her Nameday present. "So . . ." she began sweetly. "May I see my   
gift, Tana? Please?"  
"No," Artana responded quickly. "Don't try to sway me, Princess,   
I know *all* the tricks. I invented them!"  
"PLEASE?"  
"No. But . . . mayhap I'll give thou one of the trinkets I got   
thee. All right?"  
Serenity jumped up and down like a child in her excitement.   
"Yes!"  
Artana smiled, then went over to the carriage and pulled open the   
door. A short, blue-haired woman tumbled out and into Artana's arms.  
Serenity stared aghast at the scene. "Marayr! What happened?!"  
"Oh, there thou art!" Artana said blithely, smiling cheerfully.   
"I was wondering what had happened to thee!"  
A blush rose to Marayr's cheeks. "The door latch got stuck . . ."  
Serenity broke into a fit of giggles.  
Artana ignored the whole matter. "Oh, then. See, Serenity? Now   
thou dost know who chose my clothes! I am not so grown as thou might   
believe. Look, we even match." Her tone was good-natured as she   
righted the shorter woman and placed her on her feet.  
Serenity looked and saw that, indeed, they were both wearing blue   
gowns, though Marayr's was paler and she wore pearl clips in her hair   
and a string of them about her neck. Her gown was also more modestly   
cut and her earrings were sapphire studs to go with the blue sapphire   
set in the ring she wore on her right hand.  
Artana turned to Marayr who still looked embarrassed. "I wast   
looking for where I placed Serenity's "trinket." Didst thou happen   
to see it whilst thou wast trapped inside?"  
Marayr looked a bit put out, but, sighing, she pointed into the   
carriage. "'Tis over there . . . under thy coat, by thy spare pair   
of shoes, amidst thy other armful of "trinkets," and placed in the   
gold-colored box."  
"Oh, thank thee!" Artana got into the carriage and began   
rummaging around.  
Serenity and Marayr stared for a moment as things began to fly out   
of the carriage. First the coat, then the shoes, then one by one the   
other "trinkets".  
"I'm *so* glad those things art not the breakables," Marayr   
sighed.  
"Thou traveled all the way here with her?" Serenity asked,   
disbelieving.  
Marayr sighed again. "Regrettably, yes. And when she sleeps,   
thou wouldst not *believe* the things she says."  
"She talks in her sleep?"  
"Quite."  
"Of what?"  
"Men, mostly." Marayr then realized who she was speaking to and   
came to herself. Taking Serenity's hands in hers, she smiled warmly   
and said, "'Tis good to see thee again, Princess."  
"'Tis good to see thee too. I have missed Artana and thee, this   
last year."  
"Well, thou shalt not be missing us for long! Before thou knowst   
it, thou wilt be scheming to get rid of us!"  
"Never-"  
"Here, look, I found it!" Artana called, bounding up to them,   
happily, her face flushed from the exertion of looking. The gaze of   
all three of them shifted to the pile of things that she had thrown   
out of the carriage. It was a small *mountain* of items.  
Without saying a word, the three of them mutually agreed to focus   
on the trinket at hand.  
Serenity looked up for permission, and Artana readily handed over   
the gold box, smiling encouragingly. Opening it, Serenity let out a   
gasp.  
Within, nestled on black satin, lay a pair of jeweled hair combs.   
Their glitter was enough to dazzle Serenity's eyes. "Thank thee,   
Artana!" She handed the box to Marayr and flung her arms around her   
friend.  
"Well, I'm glad thou approves of my little "trinkets!""  
"Thou callst these *trinkets*?!"  
"Of course! Thou shalt look absolutely stunning tonight and   
surprise whomever it is that hast captured thy heart!"  
Serenity pulled away. "What dost thou mean, "whomever hast   
captured my heart"?"  
"That's the second time that thou hast stabbed me in the neck with   
that blasted rose!"  
"Ooops." Serenity flushed a lovely shade of crimson.  
Marayr and Artana exchanged a look, then burst into gentle   
laughter.  
"Come, come let us make haste and surprise Immara!" Serenity   
begged, grabbing her two friends by the hands, which was rather   
difficult since she held the rose in one hand and the box in the   
other.  
Marayr smiled indulgently and Artana sighed. "Very well, my   
little cousin-"  
Serenity started to run, dragging the two girls behind her.  
"What about my LUGGAGE?!!!" Artana cried in dismay.  
"It'll keep!" Serenity shouted.  
"Of course it will," Marayr said absently, running along after   
Serenity, "'tis *luggage* not a cake."  
Serenity giggled.  
  
* * *  
  
"Art thou all right, Prince Endymion?"  
Endymion turned, gazing calmly at his "Guardian" who stood, a hand   
on the nose of his horse. Unruffled blue eyes gazed back out of a   
youthful face. The prince sighed, brushing a hand back over his dark   
hair. "Fine. Why dost thou ask, Jadyrn?"  
The blonde ignored him, turning away. "Thou seemst troubled." He   
gently pulled the reins of Ravius and the horse obediently turned   
about and followed him, his hooves clicking against the cobblestone   
underfoot. "Ravius needed a bit of exercise," he said deliberately.   
"The lands about here art quite nice. Perhaps thou wouldst exercise   
Darius later?"  
"Perhaps," Endymion answered absently.  
"The young princess is quite lovely, is she not, Your Majesty?"  
Endymion felt a flash of jealousy.  
A slight smile formed on Jadyrn's lips, unseen by Endymion. "Do   
not feel so, my prince. I have no designs on the princess."  
The feeling subsided and curiousity replaced it. "Jadyrn, how   
canst thou know what I dare not tell thee?"  
"I was young once . . . as thee. Dost thou think that I am   
foreign to the desires and feelings of the young?"  
"Thou speakst as though, thou wast a thousand years old! Thou art   
not so old."  
"No. Nor am I so young as thee. Feelings no longer trouble me.   
I have learned not to feel so the world can no longer hurt me. As   
for thee, my prince . . . Well, thou art young yet. I think the   
princess wilt find favor in thee. Enjoy thy happiness . . . I fear   
it may be fleeting."  
"What dost thou say to me? What omens art thou tossing my way? I   
am bewildered by this talk."  
"Thou art so young . . ." Jadyrn turned around to face his prince   
and looked at him for a long, still moment. Endymion blinked and   
broke the stillness between them. When he looked again, his aide-de-  
camp was gone.  
"What manner of riddles-" Endymion began muttering to himself,   
when Nephrayn sauntered into the courtyard. "Hey! Nephrayn!"  
"My prince." He paused and sketched a quick, informal bow, then   
kept walking towards him, looking pleased with himself. "Good news!   
The king and queen instructed me that everything is set for the   
Nameday announcement! All thou must do is win the princess over."  
"Good God, her Nameday is but a fortnight away!" Endymion looked   
troubled.  
Nephrayn laughed. "Is that so much trouble for a charmer such as   
thee? Courage, Endymion!" He slapped him hard on the back.  
Endymion glared.  
  
* * *  
  
Immara walked down an empty hallway, idly wondering where Serenity   
had gone. She had finished up with her errands and had gone looking   
for the princess, only to discover that no one had seen her.   
"Serenity," she muttered under her breath, "wherefore art thou?"  
"Boo!" the princess yelled, popping out of a corridor that   
intersected the one Immara was walking down.  
Immara was so startled that stepping backward, she tripped on the   
hem of the back of her green dress and fell down. From her position   
on the floor, she glared at the younger girl. "Serenity!"  
"I'm sorry," Serenity apologized sheepishly. "Art thou all   
right?"  
"Fine," Immara muttered, getting to her feet and dusting herself   
off with her hands. It was then that she noticed that her fall had   
jarred her more than she thought. Her necklace's always faulty clasp   
had broken in the fall and the piece of jewelry had fallen to the   
ground. She picked it up and sighed.  
"Well, so much for our surprise," Artana's voice rang out dryly.  
"Tana?" Immara asked incredulously as Artana stepped around the   
corner.  
"Immie," Tana said matter-of-factly.  
The brunette noblewoman stepped forward and hugged the blonde who   
had almost been a sister to the princess and her. Tana hugged her   
back. "Silly girl, thou acts as though a *year* had passed since   
last we saw each other!"  
"It has!"  
"Oh, yes, there is that," Artana mused.  
"And is there to be no greeting for me?" a quiet voice asked.  
Immara looked up to see the blue-haired girl. "Marayr!"  
Marayr smiled. "Art thou glad to see me too?"  
Immara gave her a hug then turned to look at Serenity accusingly.   
"Princess, thou art wicked to spring them both on me at once!"  
Serenity simply smiled and said nothing.  
"It took us awhile to find thee," Artana complained. "Serenity   
had to put away her things in her rooms first. Then we had no idea   
where to find thee."  
"How canst I be hard to find? I was seeking Serenity! Now, shall   
we walk out to the gardens?" Immara suggested.  
The girls agreed and the four of them went outside, drinking in   
the golden sunshine.  
  
* * *  
  
Kunzyn rode his white stallion Marcus along the woodland trails   
and through the fields that the princess of Reyre favored. He jumped   
him over low-lying hedges and half-rotted logs in the path and only   
when a sheen of sweat covered them both did he stop and let his horse   
rest. They ambled slowly back along the way they had come and Kunzyn   
patted the horse's side gently. As he neared the forest gate he saw   
Zoyzer up ahead, walking his chestnut steed, Zane. Urging the tired   
steed into a slow gallop, he quickly caught up with Zoyzer who nodded   
at him. They both halted at the gate. Kunzyn dismounted and they   
both looped their horses' reins about the iron bars covered in green   
growth and let them rest. For a long moment the two men were silent,   
drinking in the beauty of the forest.  
"Why dost thou not ride?" Kunzyn asked, pushing back his sweaty   
bangs.  
"To exhaust myself like thee?" Zoyzer looked away, leaning against   
the gate. "I think not, Kunzyn. I have other things to occupy my   
time."  
Kunzyn snorted. "Like what?"  
"The trouble brewing might prove worrisome, but that is yet to be   
seen. I assure thee," Zoyzer smiled, "that worrying over nothing   
wilt not get us one whit closer to solving it, and certainly now is   
not the time to spend doing nothing. The prince's marriage is all   
but final. Now is a time of celebration! Before the battles and the   
wars, we must enjoy ourselves, lest we die unsatisfied."  
"Thy point being?"  
"Here there be women," Zoyzer grinned. "And here there be I."  
Kunzyn looked at him blankly for a moment, then burst into   
laughter. "Aye, and thou wilt make full use of thy time."  
Zoyzer looked away, chuckling quietly to himself and his eyes lit   
upon the gate which towered over the two of them, standing about   
eight feet tall. "Why dost this gate stand here, in the middle of no   
road, leading to nowhere?"  
Kunzyn glanced at it. "'Tis the forest gate, or so I have heard   
it called. It originally blocked a road leading to the castle."  
"And while the castle still stands, the road is no more," his   
companion finished.  
Kunzyn frowned. "Nay, neither stand. The castle that harbored us   
this last night was not the one that stood behind this gate. Both   
burned . . . the castle and the road."  
"How can that be?"  
"Invaders came and took these lands . . . and more. Dalayne and   
Reyre both . . . 'Twas many years before . . . There wast a war and   
much confusion. Eventually, King Lucent and Endymion's ancestors   
drove out the invaders from their lands. The king of Reyre built a   
new castle from which he would rule the land. The gate is the only   
thing remaining from those times, overgrown and forgotten . . . as   
the war itself is."  
Zoyzer stared at the gate and shuddered as his friend continued,   
his low voice never rising, a fierce, driving anger behind each word.   
"In time, the people forgot the wars . . . forgot that their land had   
ever been anything but peaceful . . . 'Tis not wise to forget the   
old lessons, for then the old punishments will come again, a   
hundredfold along with the centuries . . ."  
"Thou fears the same," Zoyzer said, his eyes wide. "Reyre and   
Dalayne. Thou fears the same . . . that history wilt repeat itself .   
. ."  
"I know it wilt. It always does." Kunzyn touched the iron bars   
of the gate. "Only united might we survive. Everything hinges on   
Endymion's marriage. *Everything* . . ."  
  
* * *  
  
Serenity let out a sigh. "It looks like we're all here."  
"But one," Marayr interjected.  
"But one," Immara agreed.  
"And where is Raslym?!" Artana demanded, an edge to her voice.  
"Here!"  
Four heads turned to see a girl stride into the courtyard, dressed   
in red velvet, with her black hair plaited and put up, pretty pearls   
threading their way through her hair and the netting that kept it in   
place. She wore a necklace with a ruby dangling on the end around   
her neck and out of the five of them managed to be the only one   
wearing gloves. The other four immediately hid their hands behind   
their backs, feeling guilty at having forgotten, especially Marayr   
who was usually sensible about such things.  
Raslym halted in front of them and looked at them haughtily.   
"Forgot thy gloves, did thee?" she asked, addressing no one in   
particular.  
They fidgeted.  
The smile spreading across her face ruined the arrogant effect   
that she was trying to convey. "Sillies! 'Tis just like thee to   
forget!"  
They all broke into smiles, then laughter, since the last of their   
close-knit group had arrived.  
After some quick catching up, where Raslym railed about how there   
had been no one to meet her and Artana had retorted that everyone had   
been too busy see to her and Marayr's comfort to be bothered with   
Raslym, Serenity remarked on Raslym's appearance. "I thought that   
Artana had turned into a lady, but I find that I am wrong."  
Artana made a face.  
"But it seemst as though thou hast acquired the mannerisms of   
one." Serenity looked at Raslym's hair. "And since when hast thou   
put thy hair *up*?"  
Raslym smiled mysteriously. "That, thou shalt never know."  
"I knew it! 'Twas this morning, wasn't it?!" Artana crowned.  
Raslym's smile faded and she advanced on Artana. "Thou art   
impossible!"  
As Raslym began to chase the fleeing Artana, Serenity smiled to   
herself. "'Tis good to know that no one hast changed *that* much."  
"LADIES!"  
The girls turned to the voice. A petite, dark-haired, blue-eyed   
woman stood before them, hands on her hips. "Art thou *quite*   
finished?!"  
"Monica!" they all cried, remembering well the slightly older   
governess who had taken care of them all as young children whenever   
they visited Serenity.  
"'Twill be a *long* day," Serenity whispered as the woman ushered   
them all inside and demanded that they behave like "proper young   
ladies."  
  
* * *  
  
Immara walked down the hallway and outside, having managed to   
escape Monica by uttering some excuses. She held the necklace   
tightly in her hand and headed towards the goldsmith shop in the main   
courtyard near the stables and the other smith shops. Perhaps one of   
the goldsmith would be in . . . despite it being a restday. As she   
neared the area she saw to her disappointment that no one was around   
. . . the area was all but deserted.  
Sighing, she headed over to the stables to look at the horses.   
Hers knickered and she stroked her nose gently. "Hello, Ako," she   
whispered gently. "How hast thou been?"  
She rested her cheek against the horse's head and shut her eyes.   
"Oh, 'tis hard . . . so hard . . ."  
  
* * *  
  
Nephrayn finished brushing his horse at the far end of the stable   
and unlatched the door of his stall. He strode out and relatched the   
door. It was then that he caught sight of a woman walking towards a   
stall. Being the only human being around, he decided that she   
wouldn't mind a bit of conversation.  
As he neared her, he heard her whispering, "Oh, 'tis hard . . . so   
hard . . ."  
He paused then continued forward, concerned now. "Art thou all   
right?" he asked.  
She whirled about, seeing him for the first time, a frightened   
look on her face.  
"I didn't mean to startle thee," he said awkwardly.  
Her expression softened and the fear went away. He noticed that   
she was quite lovely, with large green eyes and delicate features.   
Turning back to her horse, she said, "'Tis all right. I should've   
noticed thee coming."  
"My Lady . . . ?"  
"Immara," she supplied.  
"My Lady Immara, I could not but overhear . . . Art thou   
troubled?"  
She looked at him grimly. "Troubled? Nay."  
His lips quirked in a half smile. His words were kind. "Then why   
can I not believe thee?"  
Immara turned about again and stared at him boldly, leaning back   
against the stall door, not trying in the least to be demure. She   
uttered each word precisely, "Perhaps due to the fact that thou art a   
bone-headed brute?"  
His smile widened. "Thy words are harsh, Lady Immara. Yet, I   
cannot see thee as being quite so cruel."  
"Thou knowst me not! How canst thou make judgments?"  
"If thou wouldst allow me to make thy acquaintance more  
intimately, then perhaps thou wouldst allow me to make such  
judgments?"  
"Intimately?" she repeated, looking at him skeptically.  
"Surely thou canst not judge *me* without learning my character?"  
"I could start with learning thy *name*," she bit out.  
"Nephrayn," he bowed more deeply then he had to Endymion earlier.   
"One of Prince Endymion's Guardians," he lied calmly.  
"Indeed?" She looked anything but impressed. "I am Immara K'irta   
Hann'yl Jrrynya D'oak of the Fourth House of Reyre. Thou hast   
nothing that wilt impress me. Hast thou even a House name?" she   
asked idly.  
Nephrayn bit back his ready reply. He *was* after all a lord and   
had gone along with Endymion and the rest as a jaunt. But, Endymion   
had cautioned him on revealing his true identity, lest the Royalty of   
Reyre felt themselves lied to or betrayed by their deception.   
Mentally he groaned, he was from the Third House of Dalayne, himself,   
which certainly outranked *her*, but he was to pretend to be a lowly   
Guardian. Gritting his teeth, he growled out. "No."  
She smiled at him kindly all of a sudden. "I am sorry. That was   
petty of me. I am not that low . . ."  
"Neither am I," he snarled. He didn't need her pity. He was   
insulted by the implication that since he *said* he had no House that   
he was worthless in her eyes.  
Her face closed against him. "Then I shall leave thee." She   
moved away but he caught her by the wrist, suddenly penitent. How   
else was she to treat him? A lady of high rank?  
"Nay, Lady, I . . . have wronged thee."  
"Art thou not satisfied with what thou hast wrought?!" she cried,   
wrenching her arm away.  
"Please . . ." he whispered. "I have acted like a fool and I can   
only beg thy forgiveness."  
She stared at him hard for an instant. "I cannot judge what I do   
not know."  
He looked down. "Thou must have come for a reason . . ."  
Immara held out her hand and something metallic glittered in the   
light. "I was searching for a goldsmith . . . The clasp is broken."  
He reached out and took it, examining it carefully. "'Tis a   
valuable piece. An heirloom?"  
"A gift . . . from my father."  
"Rich girl's gifts," he muttered without thinking.  
"Before he died!" she screamed at him, her eyes filling with   
tears. "His last gift to me! A deathgift!" Then she ran off,   
sobbing and he could only look after her with wide eyes, the delicate   
necklace in his hand.  
He pulled his hand down his face. "A deathgift. How *stupid*   
canst thou be, Nephrayn?!" he addressed himself, staring at the bit   
of jewelry. "How insensitive a cad art thou?"  
  
* * *  
  
Immara leaned against a wall, her back pressed to the cold stone,   
her breath heaving in and out. "Thou art a *fool*, Immara!" she   
berated herself, her hand clenched tightly. "How canst thou have  
left thy father's deathgift in the hands of a *Guardian*? How wilt I  
ever get it back?"  
"Indeed," a velvety voice asked. "How wilt thou?"  
She looked up and her eyes met two red ones gazing intently at her   
out of the darkness. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand   
covering her mouth cut her off.  
Someone laughed. "Should we cut off her ears or her tongue?"  
"Nay, her eyes first . . ." a third voice answered.  
  
  
  
Oooh, three mysterious people . . . Okay, okay, so the plot's a   
little *slow* so far . . . It'll be better soon, I promise! The   
action will start next time, I'm pretty sure. And it may not be   
quite what you expect . . . Let me just say that this might be a   
romance (Have I written anything that isn't?) but it's also an   
adventure story . . . and sitting around the castle and riding horses   
are *not* going to be the only things that the characters will be   
doing for long. Well, as long as it takes me to get the next part   
out. ^^;;; And yes, I *am* working on the next part of "IAL:TLB."   
Look for lots of new stuff to be out sometime soon.  
  
On another little happy note, I *finally* took the plunge and got a   
webpage at: http:///www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Palace/3649  
  
Not much is up yet, only a few links and things, but once I learn   
some HTML and set up my page the way I want it, expect my 'fics to  
appear there (definitely the current ones, maybe the others), and  
previews of new ones. There, that's incentive to visit, isn't it?  
I'll try to work on the page in my spare time. (What's that?  
^^;;;) Arigato for reading, minna!  



	3. Chapter Three: Arrangements and Reservat...

Disclaimer: Sailor Moon does not belong to me. It belongs to Naoko  
Takeuchi and a great many wonderful people who, if they were so  
inclined, could make things very unpleasant for me. (However, they   
are all MUCH too generous and benevolent to do any such thing.) This   
is a work of fiction and while the original idea does not belong to   
me, this story does. Remember that, because if you don't, I'm   
sending the Senshi after you . . . .  
  
  
Castles and Kingdoms  
  
by Fushigi Kismet  
  
  
Chapter Three:  
~Arrangements and Reservations~  
  
  
  
'Nay, her eyes first . . .' echoing in her ears, Immara rammed her   
elbow behind her as hard as she could into the person holding her.   
As that one let go of the hands covering her mouth, doubling over in   
pain, Immara grabbed an arm and threw the assailant into the red-eyed   
person in front of her. They both crashed into the ground and lay   
unmoving. Dealing with the third assailant off to the left was a   
little harder, but she moved quickly and swept out a foot in an   
attempt to knock the unseen person down. Unfortunately, the   
adversary took that instant to take a flying leap towards Immara,   
which she ducked, drawing her foot back, and springing up at the   
right moment, she caught the leaping individual about the ankles and   
swung her crashing into the other two.  
Dusting her hands off, she looked down with satisfaction at the   
heap of bodies in front of her. "Now, who art thou?!" she demanded.  
Amidst groaning and moaning, one of the trio dug through the   
others and lifted a head to look at the girl. "Gods, Immara, thou   
hast not changed at ALL!"  
"Harmony?" she asked, startled out of her composure.  
"Aye," was the painful reply.  
  
Endymion paced. "How am I to tell her, Kunzyn?"  
"As thou wouldst anything else . . . by first opening thy mouth."  
The prince glared at his lord. "Oh, thank thee for thy sparkling   
gems of wisdom!"  
The white-haired lord winced at the venom in his prince's words.   
"Fine then, Endymion, attempt to win her over, then spring the news   
on her, and then marry her - all in succession. Thou wilt have   
surprised her so much that she wilt not have been aware of what was   
happening until thou hadst her in her bridal chamber."  
Endymion struck his friend hard, ignoring the thickness of the   
armor. Kunzyn grimaced at the dent. "This is *supposed* to be   
protective armor, thou knowst! I'm *not* supposed to protect myself   
from thee!"  
"Then help me!"  
"Just tell her the truth . . ."  
  
Monica left the room, shouting at the girls to behave and pick out   
proper attire for the ball. As she briskly rounded a corner to see   
if she could assist the prince and his men in any way, as she was the   
only servant entrusted with the news of the engagement, she came face   
to face with a sight that stopped her cold.  
"What art thou doing here?" she demanded, her voice as frigid as   
the cold, snowy wastes of the north.  
"Why else would I come? I came for thee." Green eyes gazed   
steadily into her own.  
She laughed bitterly. "I washed my hands of thee years ago. I   
want no more to do with thee! Why dost thou insist on intruding upon   
my peace?"  
"Thou knowst why. I miss thee, Monica . . ."  
She struck him across the face so hard that she drew blood.   
Slowly placing a hand to his cut lip, he gazed at her and his face   
hardened. "Fine, thou mayst act so. I have tried to find   
forgiveness here and have found nothing but hatred. I shall seek   
solace in other arms!"  
"As thou always does!" she shouted, turning and striding away so   
he could not see the tears welling up in her eyes. "I take my leave   
of thee - May I never set eyes upon thee again!"  
"A touch hard, since I am His Highness's chief advisor. Thou wilt   
be hard put to avoid me following the marriage . . . but I shall do   
my utmost to insure that we ne'er again cross paths!"  
She rounded the same corner again and stood leaning against the   
wall for a long moment, tasting the salt of tears. Her whispered   
words issued forth, "I hate thee. Never more than now, when thou   
hast hurt me again. My heart is bleeding . . . Old scars never fade   
as one wants them to, and they always pain thee more than they   
should. I hate thee doubly for this, and yet . . . I shall say it   
this once, and then I shall put it behind me. I love thee, Aros."   
She pushed herself away from the wall and walked on, head held high .   
. . and tears still flowing.  
  
The three women painfully stood and straightened themselves.  
"Art thou all right?" Immara asked solicitously.  
Harmony sent a sour look her way. "Tell me, dear cousin, do we   
LOOK all right?!"  
"Well, thou shouldst have known better than to threaten me,"   
Immara replied, her anger rising.  
"Calm down," the green-haired woman, commanded softly. "There is   
no need for dispute. Is there?" Her stern eyes bored into Immara's   
and the brunette looked away.  
"No." Immara sighed, before looking up and asking, "Why didst the   
three of thee come, Odele?"  
She smiled. "To see thee of course! And at what better time than   
just before the princess's name day? We wilt pay our respects, see   
thou, and-"  
"Eat a lot of good food!" Harmony finished. "I'm famished."  
Odele rolled her eyes. "Thou must excuse thy cousin. The journey   
must have addled her brain more than we previously thought."  
"Hey!"  
As Odele and Harmony began squabbling playfully, Immara turned to   
the one remaining figure. "And thee, Simyra? Why hast thou come?"   
Her voice held a touch of fear.  
"I have no more bad tidings for thee, Immara. Thy father's   
passing was tragic, but do not hold me responsible. I was but a   
messenger."  
"I know. Still, it is difficult to see thee as aught but a   
messenger of death. First my mother, and then my father. So, why   
didst thou come?"  
Simyra looked searchingly at the girl in front of her. "Why . . .   
for the wedding, of course."  
  
Immara slipped into the room where the other girls were all   
surveying their dresses.  
"Hello, Immie!" Serenity called. "Where hast thou been?"  
Immediately, Immara remembered her necklace . . . and other   
matters. With a sinking feeling she replied as cheerfully as she   
could, "Oh, nowhere of much import. Harmony, Odele, and Simyra have   
arrived!"  
The princess's eyes widened in delight. "Are they settled? Might   
I assist them?"  
"Monica has attended to them most diligently. Thou canst see them   
later."  
"Oh, I shall greet them most joyfully at the ball!" Serenity   
beamed.  
Immara sighed internally. "Hast thou decided on a dress?"  
Serenity winked, pulling out a silvery-white one. "Is it a good   
choice?"  
Immara smiled, seeing her princess's happiness. "Aye. Now . . .   
to accessorize!"  
Raslym groaned. "Immara, sometimes I wonder if thou wilt ever   
grow up!"  
"Perhaps I have already," she said under her breath, so no one   
could hear her.  
"Other than the hair combs that thou so graciously gave me, Tana,   
this is the only accessory I need!" Serenity declared, pulling out a   
golden box inlaid with jewels and opening it to reveal a velvet   
interior upon which lay . . .  
"Thy CHARM?!" the girls exclaimed.  
"Aye."  
"I cannot believe that thou still hast that old thing!" Raslym   
exclaimed, bewildered.  
Serenity gently pulled out the sparkling clear gem which hung on   
the end of a silver chain. "What, thou dost not believe that I am   
capable of holding on to my belongings?" she asked, putting it on.  
"'Tis just . . . how many years hast thou *had* that?!"  
Serenity smiled. "It was a gift from my first Nameday."  
The girls gaped as she spun about, smiling happily. "And I still   
love it the most!"  
The gem glimmered on her chest and she reached up a hand to touch   
it. Almost inaudibly she murmured, "I am strangely drawn to it."  
  
Endymion stopped talking all of a sudden and Kunzyn stared at him   
suspiciously. Not that he wasn't happy that his prince had stopped   
panicking about explaining things to Serenity . . . it was simply odd   
that he had not finished his sentence. "Is something wrong, Your   
Highness?"  
Endymion grinned. "No, everything's fine, Kunzyn! Better than   
fine - everything's great!"  
"If thou sayst so . . ."  
Suddenly composed, Endymion clapped the lord on the back and said   
brightly, "Thanks for listening to me. I know just what to do now."   
Seeing the strange look on Kunzyn's face, he sighed. "I'll explain   
it all later."  
  
Later, as the girls dressed for the ball, Artana turned to   
Serenity and demanded, "Hast thou got men here?"  
"What?" Serenity asked, startled.  
"Young men, I mean. Monica was nattering on about taking care of   
the "gentlemen's needs" and those "blasted horses. I saw all of the   
horses in the stables, myself, upon my arrival. What company hast   
arrived?"  
"Serenity's suitor and his soldiers!" Immara laughed, secretly   
worrying, but trying to make light of the matter before the truth was   
known. "They have come to kidnap the princess and take her back to   
the prince's kingdom."  
"Thou art not serious?" Marayr's eyes had grown wide as saucers.  
"No!" Serenity bit out sharply. "Immie is convinced that Prince   
Endymion of Dalayne is to marry me."  
"Well, perhaps he is," Artana said, eyes sparking with interest.   
"After all, why else would he come?"  
Serenity opened her mouth to reply . . . only to find that she had   
no ready answer.  
  
The evening was splendid, the ladies and lords all decked out in   
their finest attire, the banquet tables covered in food enough to   
feed an army and delectable enough to feed a king.  
Serenity and the others were stunning to behold and the princess   
was the center of attention, shining like a sun amidst the chaos of a   
dark galaxy. Guests orbited her, especially young lords come for the   
feast, eager to bathe in the light of her smile. Annoyed by all of   
the attention they were paying her, Endymion broke through, and   
bowing gallantly before her, resplendent in his golden tunic and   
cape, he smiled and said:  
"Might I have the honor of this dance, fair princess?"  
Serenity smiled and hesitantly took his hand.  
The other hopeful suitors grumbled, for the princess had yet to   
dance with anyone but her father, but when Endymion shot them a dark   
look, they shut their mouths and looked away.  
He drew her gracefully out onto the dance floor and as soon as he   
lead her into a waltz, she forgot about anything else but the fact   
that he was a fine dancer and *very* handsome. But the dark blue of   
his eyes disturbed her . . . it was as though she had seen them   
before.  
They did not talk, but his eyes never left her. She had the   
feeling that he knew all the things that she did not say, and so, she   
did not have to say them. It struck her that she would be perfectly   
content dancing with him forever . . . or as long as the music   
continued.  
  
The other ladies marveled at what a fine couple the prince and   
princess made as her parents smiled benignly on the pair. Her   
friends did not bother to watch her, sighing instead for they had not   
yet been asked to dance.  
  
"Guardian Nephrayn," Immara said serenely, curtsying politely as   
he approached her.  
He bowed, then draped a necklace about her neck. "A deathgift is   
sacred. No one should have possession of this but thee."  
"The clasp . . . 'tis fixed!" she exclaimed, delighted.  
"I'm quite familiar with the smithing trade," he said honestly.   
He had spent a great deal of time with the town smith as a child . .   
. since the smith's daughter was a rather pretty little thing. He   
*had* fixed the necklace by himself, feeling more than a little   
guilty.  
"Thank thee," Immara said quietly, ashamed of her previous   
behavior.  
"Thank me with a dance," Nephrayn suggested, smiling a little.  
She smiled back at him and took the hand he offered. "I would be   
delighted, sir Guardian."  
The other girls watched as they began to dance.  
  
Marayr gazed longingly at the whirling couples and Zoyzer,   
catching sight of her, discreetly made his way to her side. "Good   
evening," he said politely and she turned, a little startled.  
Her face blossomed into a smile. "Good evening. One would almost   
think thee a lord, sir, thou lookst so fine in thy rainments."  
Zoyzer grimaced internally. Moron! Why did I come as this . . .   
a Guardian? Better a court jester . . . then I could make her laugh.   
But this? What I would give for my title back at this instant!   
"Thou art most kind and most beautiful, lady." His eyes, a startling   
emerald green, met hers.  
She looked down, a flush coloring her cheeks. "I knowst thou . .   
. charmer, flatterer, rogue."  
"Thou hast categorized me well. Come, a waltz? Surely my lowly   
station in life wilt not offend thee to any great degree?"  
"No, it wilt not."  
He pulled her quickly to him, still gentle as he lead her onto the   
dance floor. Marayr whispered into his ear, "Thou art holding me too   
closely, Guardian. I am not offended, but 'tis scandalous."  
"I am a Guardian, lady. I guard and protect. Surely, nothing   
needs close protection more than a treasure such as thee?"  
Her face turned crimson, but luckily, he could not see it. "Given   
more than tonight and other than I, I am sure that thou would have   
charmed a lady so much that she would have fallen quite hard for   
thee."  
He grinned. "Give me but tonight, and only thee, and we wilt see   
what I am capable of accomplishing."  
  
One of Serenity's suitors, glaring ominously at Endymion,   
approached Artana and asked for a dance. Kunzyn stopped short in his   
walk to her and turned to go, but she saw him and smiled   
apologetically, over her dancing partner's shoulder. "The next one,"   
she mouthed to him. He nodded in confirmation.  
  
That left only Raslym who had spoken to Harmony and Odele for a   
time, argued with Simyra over the merits of baked fish over fried,   
and had finally grabbed the nearest single male she could find and   
requested a dance. He obliged her reluctantly, for Raslym's temper   
was widely known and feared.  
  
The dancers stopped as the song ended and the musicians took a   
break. As everyone clapped politely, Raslym's partner quickly made   
some excuses and left. Fuming, she stalked over to a waiter and   
reached for a glass of wine on his tray before Harmony handed it to   
her, with a laugh. The dark-haired girl brightened up a bit and   
chatted a little more amiably with Harmony and Odele. Off to one   
side of the room, Immara and Nephrayn shared a laugh at some private   
joke, while Zoyzer busily complimented Marayr, causing her to blush   
even more. Artana's dancing partner dragged her off to fetch some   
drinks while Kunzyn doggedly followed her through the mass of people,   
thinking dark thoughts about uppity young lords. And Monica did   
whatever she had to in order to avoid Aros, who had, surprisingly   
enough, come alone.  
In all the commotion, no one noticed as Endymion and Serenity   
stepped outside for a breath of air.  
  
They wandered around the courtyards for a little while, drinking   
in the rich scent of early roses and the feeling of the cool evening.   
Serenity smiled unconsciously to herself, her hand pulling on her   
charm - an action that Endymion noted with great satisfaction.  
When they had reached a particularly concealing garden, he stopped   
her and opened his hand to reveal a beautiful pearl bracelet.   
Serenity drew a breath in delight. The prince placed the bracelet   
around her wrist, knowing it suited her. "A gift . . . for thee."  
"A Nameday gift?" she asked, pleased.  
"No, Serenity," he whispered, his words husky and breathless with   
the endearment of her name. An endearment that he could not keep   
from meaning all that it was to him . . . His voice sounded as   
though her name was a joy not to be borne.  
"Why dost thou say it like that?" she murmured, wonderingly. "I   
have never heard it said so. As though . . . as though it was the   
first word ever uttered by man on Earth . . . as though thou art   
saying it to be selfish, to keep it all to thyself. Why dost thou   
say it so?"  
"Because I am being selfish. Because I do want to keep it all to   
myself." He placed his thumb under her chin and ran a finger around   
the curve of her jawline, over her lips. "I want thee all to myself.   
I want nothing else to be able to touch thee, to see thee, to make   
any type of claim on thee. I want thee so."  
"Why?" she whispered, unable to understand. "Why dost thou feel   
this way?"  
"It is the way I want thee. It is the way I love thee." Intense   
dark blue eyes gazed into trembling light blue ones.  
"What is the bracelet a gift for?" she demanded all of sudden.   
"What gives thee the right to say such things to me . . . and mean   
them, here in my own home? Tell me, prince . . . Tell me the   
truth."  
"It is a betrothal gift. Thy parents and mine arranged for us to   
be wed upon thy birth . . . before mine were killed. We are to be   
wed, princess. Dost thou hate me? I shall not ask if thou canst   
love me . . . the answer would be too cruel . . . but as for the   
other . . . dost thou hate me?"  
"No," she said softly, "I cannot hate thee. Thou hast done   
nothing, but speak the truth to me. I can only ask . . . how canst   
thou love me, despite everything? It is not thy own free choice."  
He gazed at her longingly. "Despite what thou might think . . .   
might believe to be true . . . it is."  
"But it is not for me."  
He shut his eyes. "No. I wish it had been otherwise. I wish   
that thou might have come to love me on thy own accord."  
"Mayhap a chance still exists for that. But until then, I cannot   
accept thy gift." She pulled off the bracelet and handed it to him,   
but he closed her fingers about it.  
"Keep it . . . as a token of my esteem . . . as a Nameday present   
. . . whatever thou wishes to think of it . . . just keep it."  
She wanted to protest, but decided against it, hearing the pain in   
his voice. "I am truly sorry."  
He smiled grimly back at her. "I have not lost yet." He bent and   
kissed her long and lingeringly on the lips, wanting her to feel what   
he felt. As he pulled away, he felt her reluctance to part from him   
and allowed himself a bit of smug satisfaction. But as he stared at   
her, the satisfaction vanished and he could feel nothing but his   
desperate longing for her. "Good night, princess." He whirled about   
and walked away, his cape fluttering behind him.  
She stared after him, feeling the chill of the evening all of a   
sudden. Her heart pounded madly in her chest and blood rushed in her   
ears. Endymion . . . no man has ever made me feel this way . . .   
but thee.  
She turned to look at the bracelet in her hand which shone with a   
white, luminescent light in the darkness. Tears filled her eyes as   
she realized its importance. "Endymion, thou hast pledged thyself to   
me. As my champion . . . Why wouldst thou do such a thing? To   
swear thyself to one woman only . . . one who does not love thee?"  
"A man in love does many things, princess."  
Serenity whirled about, the bracelet clutched tightly to her.   
"Who art thou that speakest to me?"  
A form materialized from the shadows, walking towards her.  
"Jadyrn," she whispered, eyes wide.  
"Your Highness." He executed a respectful bow. She curtsied   
politely in turn, the formal politeness too much a part of her to   
forget, even at such a confusing time. "Princess Serenity," his eyes   
narrowed as he spoke and she wondered at their hardness, "do not   
trifle with the prince if thou must not. He wilt be too easily   
crushed by thee."  
"I have no intention of trifling with His Royal Highness. I have   
given him my answer, and he refuses to accept it. There is nothing   
more to be done."  
Jadyrn smiled, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. The smile   
wast not pleasant, nor menacing, merely impersonal. "Art thou sure,   
princess?"  
"The bracelet." She held it out to him. "Return it to thy   
prince. He wilt not accept its return from me."  
"Then he shall certainly not accept it from I. Keep it, Your   
Highness."  
Serenity pulled her hand back slowly, reluctantly. "Thou sayst   
one thing, and then another! Why dost thou speakst so - in riddles?"  
"Riddles art easily solved, upon the finding of the answer."  
Her eyes blazed angrily and she turned her back to him, striding   
away. "Good night, sir Guardian! I have no more to say to thee."  
"Good night, princess. One last thing . . ."  
"Yes?" she called without looking back.  
"Take care of him. Even a champion may need a champion   
sometimes."  
"What meanst thou? Thou art his Guardian! Jadyrn?" She turned,   
but he was gone.  
  
Darkness massed beyond the castle walls, silent figures muffled   
the sound of horses the stealthy color of shadows, and a man with   
hair the color of fire issued a low, throaty order. "Scale the   
walls!"  
Grappling hooks flew up through the air, the clink of metal on   
stone going unheard over the noises of revelry and laughter. A   
sentry high atop the battlements ran towards the fire pit, attempting   
to light the flames that would alert the inhabitants to an invasion,   
but a lone figure waiting directly in his path struck him hard and he   
toppled over the walls to fall to the ground below without so much as   
a sound. The invasion continued.  
  
Jadyrn turned from his place near the doorway where he stood with   
a glass of wine, fully attired in his armor, watching one dark-haired   
guest in particular. He set down the wine gently on a nearby table   
and strode out swiftly.  
His departure did not go unnoticed by the other three. Alarms   
went off in their minds and under their breaths they swore, politely   
excusing themselves from their dancing partners. Kunzyn shot an   
apologetic look Artana's way, and she looked at him, her eyes   
narrowing in sudden understanding. She apologized quickly to her   
partner and quietly began to follow the white-haired man.  
Lady Immara stayed Nephrayn with her arms around him and gazed   
anxiously up at him. "What is wrong?" she murmured softly, so no one   
else could hear.  
"Do not trouble yourself, Lady Immara," he responded, trying to   
mask the urgency underlining his voice. "Enjoy yourself. The others   
and I will take care of it." He hesitated for a moment, his eyes   
softening a little. "Stay here . . . the trouble will most likely   
not get this far."  
Not believing him, she reluctantly let go of him and pausing   
briefly, he kissed her wrist in passing.  
Startled, she looked after him. That had not been a casual act .   
. .  
  
"Jadyrn - HOLD!" Kunzyn commanded, as Zoyzer, Nephrayn, and he ran   
to catch up to the blonde running up ahead of them.  
Jadyrn slowed to a stop, his eyes scanning the castle, as the   
others caught up.  
"What dost thou sense?" Kunzyn said in a low voice, looking about   
as well.  
Jadyrn did not respond for a moment, his grip tightening on his   
sword hilt. "Where is Endymion?"  
The other three exchanged a look. Nephrayn spoke first. "I have   
not seen him since early this evening."  
"Nor have I," Zoyzer seconded.  
"Dammit!" Kunzyn ground his teeth together. "That damn fool!"  
"Nay, we are the fools," Jadyrn responded evenly. "To leave him   
unattended. I last saw him in the gardens. Kunzyn, if it would suit   
thee to send Zoyzer and Nephrayn to seek him out?"  
"Aye. Get thee gone, the two of thee!" Nephrayn and Zoyzer were   
quick to obey their superior's commands, moving quickly towards the   
gardens. "Now, what dost thou sense?"  
"Thou knowst full well, Kunzyn." Jadyrn resumed walking at a   
brisk pace, his hand still on the sword at his side. "Prepare   
thyself."  
"And when have I been caught unawares?"  
Dark figures materialized from the gloom, their blades glittering   
in the night, and the red-haired man at their head laughed harshly,   
saying, "Now."  
Two arcs of silver steel shone as the long blades were pulled out   
as one to be pointed at their adversaries. The fire in grey and blue   
eyes flickered fiercely.  
Kunzyn's next words were hard and low, as he ran forward, his   
deadly blade shining. "Time to play."  
  
Nephrayn and Zoyzer looked about anxiously for their prince.  
"Endymion!"  
"Your Highness!"  
"Where the heck is he?"  
The elder lord turned to look at the younger. "Wherever he is, we   
had better find him soon."  
"You will never find your prince!" a course voice snarled   
gratingly.  
Nephrayn turned and quickly gave a half-bow, mockingly. As he   
straightened he drew forth his sword. Zoyzer already had his blade   
in his hand. The blonde was smirking as the two lords simultaneously   
mock-saluted their adversaries with their swords.  
"Where is he?" Zoyzer demanded, still smiling, but dangerously   
now.  
"You'll never know! He's dead, you fools! Did you think we would   
leave him alive?" The mercenaries snickered as their leader spoke.   
They were hardened warriors, clothed in black leather and bits and   
pieces of armor they had taken off of the rotting corpses of the men   
they had killed. Scars covered their bodies and faces and their ugly   
personalities were mirrored in their equally ugly appearances.  
"Well, gentlemen," Nephrayn began, his voice dripping with   
sarcasm, "if thou wouldst kindly step this way, my friend and I would   
enjoy *beating* the information out of thee."  
"D'you hear that, boys? He's gonna beat us!" The mercenaries   
laughed harder, but clutched their weapons a little more tightly in   
preparation.  
"Damned Mrrukians," Zoyzer muttered under his breath.  
Nephrayn looked over at his friend. "Oh, they're damned all   
right. And soon enough they'll know it - in Hell!"  
"All right, loudmouth - and you too, pretty boy -" the Mrrukian   
leader yelled, "I'm done laughing now, so you've only got a few   
moments left to live. Better pray to your gods!"  
Nephrayn and Zoyzer exchanged skeptical looks.  
"That tired old line?" Nephrayn muttered. "May I never live to   
hear it again if *that's* all the scum of today can think of as a   
challenge!"  
"Don't worry, you won't have to worry about that soon enough,   
loudmouth!"  
And then, there was nothing but the glint of metal on metal and   
the clamor of battle in the courtyard.  
  
Immara stepped out of the ballroom, fear crowding her heart.   
Nearby, she heard the noise of battle, of curses and insults, of   
death. She paused for an instant, the cool wind blowing about her   
and carrying to her the scents of bloodshed and the sound of agonized   
screams before she whirled back around.  
She came face to face with Harmony.  
  
"What's the matter, little cousin?" But then Harmony heard it   
too, and stiffening, she let go of the hands around Immara's   
shoulders. "Fighting? Here? Crap!"  
She turned to look over her shoulder as Odele and Simyra stepped   
out of the doorway in her wake. They heard the sounds immediately as   
well. The three locked eyes, then nodded abruptly, the festive mood   
vanishing instantly.  
"Go and warn the others," Harmony instructed Immara, giving her a   
shove towards the door. "Go! The royal family and everyone inside   
are in danger!"  
Immara stopped, glaring, as tears welled up in her eyes. "Not   
thee, too! Don't go, Harmony!"  
"Whoever's fighting needs help. I have to go."  
"Everyone I have ever cared about dies on me! Not thee . . .   
Harmony. Swear it! Swear that thou wilt not die!"  
Harmony smiled softly down at her. "Thou art more child than   
woman, Immara. I swear it. After all, dear cousin, I am not known   
as Harm for nothing!"  
Immara looked away, towards Odele and Simyra. Speaking to Odele,   
she said, "Take care of her . . . and of thyself."  
"I shall." Odele smiled at the younger girl, her eyes full of   
confidence.  
Immara turned to Simyra. "As for thee . . . no more bad news."  
Simyra looked at her silently, but the reassurance in her eyes   
lent Immara strength. The girl turned to go. "I shall see thee   
again."  
  
The warriors overwhelmed Kunzyn and Jadyrn, savagely slashing at   
them with their weapons. But a good many fell before the two lords'   
swords and soon the ground was littered with the bodies of the dead.  
"Get to the others," Kunzyn ordered Jadyrn, his blade pressed   
against another's. "There are too many! We can't hold them off   
forever! Warn who thou canst and save who thou must."  
Jadyrn frowned. "And thee?"  
"Never mind me! Wilt thou go already?!"  
The blonde lord finished his opponents off quickly, then knocking   
down two in the first row by ramming them in the face with his arm,   
he tripped up the next few. He ran back towards the palace, the   
sound of Kunzyn's lone sword against a dozen more driving him on.  
  
Artana watched as a ring of soldiers surrounded Kunzyn. Grabbing   
a large branch lying on the ground, she ran from her hiding place   
behind the next wall and yelling loudly, smashed the branch down on   
the nearest helmeted head. Unfortunately, it splintered and the   
soldier turned around, a vicious growl starting in his throat.  
Kunzyn turned and sliced through him, before turning back to the   
battle. Artana ran up behind him, clutching the remains of her   
branch.  
"Come to hinder me, hast thou?" he asked.  
"To help thee!" she protested.  
"Not really."  
Her eyes blazed. Then she lashed out at the nearest soldier with   
a kick, knocking him down. Kunzyn didn't question her, merely moved   
closer, his stance protective. Whatever else she was, she was still   
a woman, and he would protect her until his death . . . which didn't   
look all that far away.   
  
Nephrayn stumbled as Zoyzer pushed him out of the way. The   
mercenaries fell on the blonde murderously and Nephrayn tried to   
shout, to stop them, but found that the Mrrukians were already   
pouring into the next courtyard, headed for the castle.  
"Dammit!" he swore, running after them.  
  
Immara burst into the ballroom. "Invaders . . . ON THEIR WAY!!!"   
she shouted. "Run, quickly! We need a defense force!"  
"It's too late for that, girl," a voice called from behind her.   
Immara turned, her eyes widening in fear as the red-haired man   
laughed, and three armored soldiers threw three motionless bodies at   
her feet. She sunk to her knees, checking their pulses. They were   
still alive . . . but barely so.  
As she stared at the battered and bloody form of her cousin, tears   
filled her eyes and she surged to her feet. "MONSTER!!!" she   
screamed, flinging herself at him and striking him with her fists.  
He laughed and struck her away. "Now then," he said sinisterly,   
"shall I state my terms?"  
The king and queen stepped forward.  
"Do not harm these people," the king stated firmly. "They are   
innocent and pose no threat to thee."  
The red-haired man spat on the ground derisively, still laughing.   
"*This* is how you defend thyselves? This mockery of a resistance?"  
"What wilt thou do with us?" the queen asked, calmly.  
The red-haired man looked to his men, smirking. He jerked his   
head towards the royal couple. "Kill them!"  
A handful of men at the forefront ran forward and impaled their   
blades, then pulled them back savagely. Red blood spurted forth as   
the king and queen fell to the ground, their hands covered with blood   
as they tried to cover up their wounds.  
Serenity screamed.  
Instantly, everyone's eyes turned to her. Raslym tried to   
restrain her, to keep her quiet and safe from harm but Serenity broke   
her friend's hold and, tears streaming from her eyes, said in the   
hardest, coldest voice imaginable, "I shall kill thee. That day   
might not be now, but soon. On that day, thou wilt know what it   
means to fear. And thou wilt fear *me* for thy death wilt be shining   
back at thee from mine eyes."   
"Kill her too," he said casually.  
Serenity saw the men approaching her and her eyes grew wide, but   
she ducked under them and fled down one of the hallways. Raslym gave   
chase, as did four of the mercenaries.  
  
Serenity pounded down the corridor and turned down another hall   
and another one until she reached an exit leading out the back into   
the gardens beyond which lay the woods. She dashed into the night,   
sobs wracking her body, heedless of where she was headed.  
"SERENITY!!!" Raslym shouted, chasing her, struggling with the   
skirt of her long red dress, and fearful of the following soldiers.   
"SERENITY, COME BACK!!!"  
Serenity paid her order no heed, tears streaming from her eyes,   
blood like ice running through her veins. Her charm sparkled eerily   
in the light of the moon. As she made her way through the forest,   
branches clawed at her, ripping at her arms and legs, tearing her   
dress. Uncaring, she ran on, into the night.  
Finally, she reached a point where she could run no longer and   
bent over, taking shallow, labored breaths, her chest aching.   
Looking up she saw where she had ended up. The forest gate.  
"Goddess," she whispered, staring up at the tall, dark gate.   
Unconsciously, she had stumbled across the trail that her ancestors   
had used, fleeing from their enemies so many years ago. I am   
following their footsteps, she thought dimly. Once again her   
attention turned to the gate.  
There was no way around it.  
She yanked at the door but it refused to budge, anchored firmly in   
place by leaves and dirt, and the neglect of seven centuries.   
Feeling trapped, she brushed away the debris piled up at the bottom   
of the gate, then saw that it was locked. Hopelessness overwhelmed   
her. The key, if there had ever been one, had been lost years ago.  
"Please, there must be some way around this!"  
Her charm shone dimly.  
She stretched out a hand to touch the rusted lock and it crumbled   
at her touch, turning to dust. Startled, she pulled away, but as the   
sounds of pursuit grew closer, she ran forwards, fumbling with the   
overgrown gate and finally getting it free.  
Running through, she found the trail and sped down it for awhile   
before going through the woods again and running farther down.   
Finally, she stopped, deep in the woods and stared into the distance   
where a red light lit the night sky.  
  
Her castle burned.  
  
"Princess Serenity." The voice was low and intense.  
She turned, tears trickling down her face. Then she caught sight   
of him, and with a shocked gasp as her hands flew to her mouth and   
her eyes widened, she ran into his waiting arms.  
"Endymion," she murmured as she catapulted into him and he wrapped   
his arms around her. "It's gone, all of it!" she sobbed into his   
arms. He let her cry. "Endymion," she whispered, feeling warm and   
safe all of a sudden. Then the exhaustion of everything that had   
occurred overtook her and she lost her hold on consciousness.  
"It's all right, Serenity," he soothed, holding her limp body to   
him. "I shall protect thee, Serenity . . . always."  
  
  
Okay, I know I told some of you I'd have something out weeks ago, but   
. . . oh, just don't ask. I was off-line for about a month before   
that, and it's just a long boring story. I *tried* my hardest . . .   
seriously. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this part and for all of you   
who are waiting not-so-patiently for the next part of "IAL: TLB" hang   
on just a little bit longer . . . Thank you!  
  
P.S. I'm going to answer all of my mail soon, promise! (I'm so   
behind!!! ^^;;;;)  



	4. Chapter Four: A Twist of Fate

Disclaimer: Sailor Moon does not belong to me. It belongs to Naoko  
Takeuchi and a great many wonderful people who, if they were so  
inclined, could make things very unpleasant for me. (However, they   
are all MUCH too generous and benevolent to do any such thing.) This   
is a work of fiction and while the original idea does not belong to   
me, this story does. Remember that, because if you don't, I'm   
sending the Senshi after you . . . .  
  
  
Castles and Kingdoms  
  
by Fushigi Kismet  
  
  
~A Twist of Fate~  
  
  
  
"SERENITY!" Raslym yelled again, running after the white phantom  
that was her princess. She heard the sound of the soldiers behind   
her and sped up. Unfortunately, her foot caught on a bit of   
undergrowth and she tripped and fell . . .  
Only to be caught and hefted up in two strong arms.  
"Oh, by the gods!" Raslym said, her eyes wide as she saw the   
bloody and battle-hardened figure before her.  
  
Nephrayn kept up his pursuit of the mercenaries but soon found   
that he was falling behind. Sheathing his sword, he leapt atop a   
wall and ran, surefooted, towards the castle. The Mrrukians gave him   
not a glance as he ran past them. He thanked the Goddess of Luck for   
being with him that night . . . The nighttime clouds had covered the   
moon so he cast no shadow.  
Once he arrived at the castle far ahead of the mercenaries who   
were impeded in speed by their numbers, he noted another four pouring   
out of the building heading towards the woods. "Dammit! Too late!"   
He thought briefly of Zoyzer who had sacrificed himself so that   
Nephrayn could save the others and cursed under his breath. He leapt   
atop the roof and made his way to a window. Looking in, he saw the   
guests surrounded by another contingent of the mercenaries. He also   
noted the bloody fallen bodies of the king and queen and several more   
unconscious forms. A red-haired man seemed to be yelling something   
and his eyes narrowed as he saw that he was motioning with his sword   
at Immara who was slowly getting to her feet. There was a darkening   
bruise on her face and tears in her green eyes.  
All right, that's it! he thought, angrily. He flipped back the   
window and jumped inside.  
  
Immara blinked as she slowly returned to consciousness. Her face   
hurt where the man had struck her across the cheek. Battling the   
tears that sprang to her eyes as she saw the unconscious bodies of   
her cousin and the others and the steadily growing pools of blood   
around the king and queen, she tried to get to her feet.  
But a sword thrust in front of her stayed her motion.  
The red-haired man waved it angrily. "Stay where you are!"  
Immara held herself perfectly still.  
"See this?!" the man demanded of the other frightened guests of   
the ball.  
They made no motion, their eyes growing wide. Immara noticed that   
Raslym and Serenity were not among them. What happened whilst I   
was unconscious? she wondered. Her eyes lit upon the bloody bodies   
in the middle of the room again and she felt like she was about to be   
sick.  
The man turned back to Immara. "Rest assured, your princess won't   
escape!"  
Serenity has escaped?  
"We'll bring her back and I'll kill her myself." He looked at her   
and his eyes narrowed to red slits. "Maybe I should start with you?!   
An example of what happens to those who defy me?"  
He turned to the rest of the assembly again. "What do you think?"  
His mercenaries snickered and his smile widened. He waved his   
sword at her. "Up, you!"  
Immara slowly began getting to her feet.  
It was then that Nephrayn leapt down from one of the windows and   
all hell broke loose.  
  
Jadyrn's blue eyes looked back at her as he set her on her feet.   
"Quiet, Lady." He held her close to him, his hand over a mouth, his   
back pressed to the trunk of a tree. The four mercenaries stormed   
by, yelling and making enough noise to make the dead. Raslym was   
sure that Jadyrn could hear the frantic beating of her heart. In   
fact, she was certain that the *mercenaries* could hear her heart.  
However, minutes later when Jadyrn was sure that they were safe,   
he let her go. She moved away and glared at him. "I can take care   
of myself!"  
"I'm sure thou canst, Lady," he said mildly, "but with the amount   
of noise thou wast making . . . thou wouldst be hard put to carry   
through."  
Raslym's anger ebbed and she looked away. "I . . . apologize. My   
thanks to thee for catching me."  
He studied her a moment longer before looking away. "I take it I   
am too late?"  
She nodded. "The King and Queen are dead. I wast following   
Serenity . . . as are those mercenaries."  
"The others? Are they in danger?"  
"I knowst not," she said in sudden dismay. "I left them back   
there . . . Oh, Goddess! Immara's back there! And Harmony, Odele,   
Simyra . . . they were unconscious . . ."  
"How many guards?" he demanded.  
"Fifty," she said.  
He winced. "We are not enough to make a difference."  
She nodded slowly, reluctantly.  
"Come," he said, "we must find my prince . . . and thy princess."  
Raslym nodded and hiking up her skirts, made her way into the   
woods. Jadyrn followed with a bemused expression on his face.  
  
Two mercenaries lifted Zoyzer's body up flung him next to a pile   
of other corpses of people they had caught and killed while fleeing   
in the first few minutes of resistance. The only difference was . .   
. Zoyzer wasn't dead.  
"Goddess," Marayr whispered from her hiding place behind one of   
the large ornamental bushes planted in the courtyard.  
"What d'we do w'im?" one of the Mrrukians asked the other. "He   
ain't dead."  
"Ornery thing. He's close enough t'dead. Leave him. He'll die   
soon enough. Ain't gonna be walkin' any time soon, anyways."  
The first one grunted in reply and they left the courtyard.  
Marayr crept forward, pushing back the bile that rose in her   
throat as she saw all of the mutilated bodies. She knelt down next   
to him, cradling his head onto her lap, her hand feeling his throat   
for a pulse. There it was . . . faint, but there. He was alive.  
She stared at him. There was a large gash on his forehead which   
bled profusely and several smaller cuts which were caked with his   
dried blood. His armour had been dented and pierced in several   
areas. His blood was everywhere.  
"Goddess," she murmured, stroking his hair matted with blood away   
from the cut on his forehead.  
He coughed and his eyes fluttered open. "Mar . . . ayr?"  
She nodded. "Yes," she said quickly as she realized that she was   
out of his line of sight. "'Tis me."  
"H . . . ow didst thou-?"  
"'Tis a long story," she whispered. "Canst thou walk?"  
He made an effort to rise then shook his head. Then, as though   
that little motion had been too much for him he said, "Get out of   
here, Marayr. I'm for the dogs."  
"Thou knowst so little," she said, frowning. "Thou art coming   
with me. Monica, Aros!" she called softly.  
The two appeared in the shadows.  
"Can he walk?" Monica asked.  
"No."  
"Leave him," Aros said impatiently. "We cannot allow ourselves to   
be slowed down . . ."  
"I wilt not leave without him!" Marayr hissed. "Now, help me move   
him!"  
They moved forward to assist her.  
  
As Nephrayn leapt down, the red-haired man whirled about to face   
him, his senses alerting him to the danger. The other mercenaries   
moved forward to attack. As they moved away the guests began a mad   
dash to the doors which were still wide open from Serenity and   
Raslym's run to safety.  
The red-haired man began to issue some commands to his men to   
secure the people when Immara hit him in the back of the head with an   
ornamental vase she had found in a niche in the wall. She and   
Nephrayn exchanged a look before he smiled simply and turned towards   
the rest of their attackers.  
It was then that the peal of breaking glass made them all look up.  
Reinforcements had arrived . . .  
  
"I can't believe that we lost the princess!" Raslym fumed,   
storming through the forest, beyond caring about the amount of noise   
that she was making or the fact that "she" had been the one to lose   
sight of the princess.  
"Calm down, Lady," Jadyrn said calmly from where he followed a few   
feet behind her. "We'll find her, and my prince. There is nothing   
to fear."  
"Dost thou ever get upset?" she demanded.  
"Of course."  
"Thou soundst like a damned Flevner."  
"And thou, Lady, shouldst not swear so."  
"Quit calling me "Lady." Thou shouldst not."  
"Why should I not?" he asked, surprised.  
"Because I . . . say so!"  
"I shall stop when thou hast a good reason, Lady." He smiled a   
little.  
Raslym squared her jaw, and looked at him with a great deal of   
irritation. "I was wrong. Thou art not a Flevner, thou art a   
Crayzen."  
He made a great show of bowing. "I am flattered."  
She looked back at him and threw her hands up in the air. "I give   
up!" She ran right smack into a heavily armored body. A flash of   
fear went through her as she saw Jadyrn's eyes widen in apprehension.   
Turning slowly about, her tongue feeling like lead in her mouth, she   
said, "I don't suppose that thou art Prince Endymion?"  
The Mrrukian leered down at her. "No." His heavily armored   
comrades snickered.  
Raslym turned around to shot an accusing look at Jadyrn, just as   
he was seized by two more men. "So much for what thou wast saying."  
"About what?"  
"Having nothing to fear."  
  
Marayr rested a cool cloth on Zoyzer's forehead as they listened   
to the sounds of fighting in the distance. She, Monica, and Zoyzer   
were hidden in a small shelter in the woods that had been built years   
ago and left in disrepair.  
"H . . . How didst thee escape?" Zoyzer asked weakly.  
Her blue eyes looked back at him and she smiled briefly. It was   
fleeting like the flicker of a flame. "We haven't yet. 'Twas all   
Aros, actually."  
Monica hmmphed and looked away, eyes unseeing.  
"Aros?"  
Marayr nodded. "When thou didst leave . . . I couldst not but   
feel that something was amiss. I made as though to follow thee but   
Aros stayed me . . ."  
And she wove her tale for him . . .  
  
Some few of Endymion's retinue who had managed to escape burst   
through the skylights located in the center of the roof of the   
ballroom. They numbered twelve in all but as they burst through,   
several of the men who had been engaged in dancing at the time of the   
invasion and whose weapons had been confiscated took advantage of the   
chaos to wrestle with their guards and relieve them of their weapons   
in turn. Armed, with their guards more or less disabled, they leapt   
into the fray.  
Aros appeared soon after the rest of the soldiers and hustled the   
remaining non-combatants, mostly ladies, through the doors that were   
no longer being guarded, into the relative safety of the woods.   
Several servants picked up the bodies of Harmony, Odele, and Simyra,   
and took them along. Immara paused to glance that way, but then   
returned her focus to the battle, striking hard with a staff she had   
managed to pick up, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Nephrayn   
fought back to back with her.  
Soon, though, it was obvious that the mercenaries' numbers were   
too great and they made a break for it, running after the last of the   
fleeing crowd. As they ran into the night, Immara could not help but   
notice that Nephrayn was holding her hand quite tightly . . . as   
though afraid to lose her. In the darkness, despite the terror she   
felt from the night's events, her cheeks burned.  
  
They were roughly thrown, bound around the hands and feet but not   
gagged, into the Mrrukian camp. Raslym had been complaining the   
whole way. "And another thing, who the hell dost thou think that   
thou art?! I am a Lady of the Queen's court!"  
"Ah, so now thee admits it," Jadyrn said, dryly.  
"Do shut up."  
Kunzyn sighed while Artana rolled her eyes. "They got thee, too,   
huh?" Artana commented.  
"Damn right!"  
"Since when didst thou develop such a dirty mouth, Raslym?" Artana   
asked with a brief spark of curiosity. "If the Queen had ever heard   
you, she would have had the servants wash thy mouth out with soap."  
"This is NOT the time to be genteel, Artana! The King and Queen   
are dead, the castle is burning, the kingdom is being overrun by   
those maggots from Estvia, and the princess is STILL missing!"  
"Thank the goddess for that."  
"What meanst thou?"  
"Hath it ever occurred to thee that the princess is better off   
wherever she is now than with us?"  
Raslym was silent for a moment as the situation that they were in   
sunk in. When she finally got her voice back, she said very softly,   
her eyes wide and shining with newfound fear, "What . . . what wilt   
they do to us?"  
Artana shut her eyes and turned her head away. "If we're lucky,   
they'll just sell us as slaves overseas . . . if we're not . . ." she   
let the statement trail away unsaid.  
Raslym bit back a sob and stared at the flickering embers of the   
fire. "Oh, Goddess . . ."  
Jadyrn was silent as he stared at her. She had been so brash but   
an instant before and now the facade was gone, burnt away by the   
harshness of the truth. Now, she looked so innocent and vulnerable,   
and so very, very young . . . He pushed down the emotions rushing to   
the surface. No, I will have none of those. Only the protective   
feeling he felt towards her, did he allow to remain.  
He spoke up, his voice falling clearly in the stillness of the   
evening, with nothing but the crackle of the fire and the far off   
sound of clanging armor to mute the words that he spoke with a quiet   
conviction and a barely hidden undercurrent of strength. "Lady . .   
."  
Raslym turned to look at him, tears springing to her eyes, the   
firelight glinting on her wild dark hair.  
"Lady . . . I will not let them lay a hand on you. If they   
should harm you in any way, I swear that I will kill them all, every   
man of them."  
Looking at him, she believed him, and she said the only thing that   
she could. "Thank thee, and don't call me Lady."  
  
Endymion stomped about, blowing on his hands to keep warm. He   
stopped before Serenity. "My apologies, but I fear that starting a   
fire would attract more attention than we need right now."  
"Of course." She looked up at him, tear tracks marring cheeks   
shining silver in the faint light of the moon and the stars.  
Endymion stared at her, longing to go to her and hold her as he   
had before. But this was not the time. She had awoken in his arms   
and had immediately pushed him away. He sat down on a fallen log   
across from her, seated in such a way that she could only see his   
profile.  
Serenity sat with her back against a tree stump, her legs drawn up   
against her chest with her arms wrapped around them and her chin   
resting atop her knees. She shivered a little from the cold.   
Glancing at her fingers, she noticed a faint blue tinge.  
Pretending not to be watching her from the corner of his eye,   
Endymion unhooked his cloak and tossed it to her. She caught it and   
shot him a grateful look, wrapping it about herself. It was silent   
but for the sounds of nocturnal creatures as they moved about and   
stalked their prey.  
After an eternity seemed to pass, Serenity spoke. "My thanks to   
thee."  
"For what?" Endymion asked absently, staring off into the   
distance, his eyes narrowed and his ears open for any movement in   
their direction.  
"For the cloak . . . and the fact that thou'rt here."  
He turned his head to look at her. "Where would I be but at thy   
side?"  
She touched the bracelet self-consciously. "I had forgotten."  
He let a smile touch and linger on his lips. "Did I not swear   
myself to thee?"  
"Yes, with the bracelet thou hast done so."  
"Nay, my pledge was made long before the giving of that gift."  
The moonlight reflected off of her charm as she slowly began to   
speak, "Thou speakst as though we had met ere 'fore . . . but I have   
no recollection of such an encounter. Prithee, tell me what it is   
that I have forgotten."  
"To tell the tale would be to spoil the memory." His eyes flashed   
dark blue as he turned away again, looking off into the distance.  
She bit her lip, feeling that she had offended him. "I am sorry."  
He remained silent.  
"I am sorry . . . for not loving thee," she whispered, a sob   
catching in her throat. "It seems that thou must suffer my presence   
'til such a time as we can part ways."  
"Dost thou think so little of thyself, princess? Any parting with   
thee would be too soon. As for loving me . . . I am still hopeful   
that time wilt be gentle with me and ease the pain of my heart . . .   
or else, speed the change of thy heart towards mine."  
"Art thou cold?" she asked suddenly.  
"Nay. My armor wilt keep me warm. But thou art more than   
chilled. Had I any covering to give thee, I would gladly part with   
it. As it is, I wilt start a fire soon."  
"No," she said sharply. "They must not find us. We wilt travel,   
and the movement shall keep my blood flowing."  
He turned to face her, taking her hand and rubbing it between his,   
blowing on it with his warm breath. She recoiled slightly, but then   
repented and allowed him to administer to the other hand as well.   
When he had finished she smiled ruefully. "Thy hands art too cold to   
do much good, lord prince."  
She stood and sat down next to him, leaning against him with a   
sigh. He awkwardly draped his arm over her shoulders and held her   
gently.  
"My parents are dead . . . My kingdom is lost to me. Tell me,   
lord prince, where wilt we go?"  
"North," he answered immediately. "To my kingdom. To Dalayne.   
Thou wilt have sanctuary there until such a time as thy kingdom   
returns to thy rule."  
"But Estvia's allies lie between here and Dalayne . . . We wilt   
meet no one but enemies."  
"It is possible to safely pass through their borders. Possible,   
but difficult. There is no alternative but to try."  
She smiled briefly. "There is no alternative but to succeed."  
Their eyes met, hers filled with determination, his with painful   
love.  
"Aye," he said with difficulty. "We wilt succeed."  
  
The next morning found the four companions at the coast after a   
forced march and ride all night. They marched. The mercenaries   
rode. They were all exhausted. Artana and Raslym were the closest   
to collapse, but the head mercenary of their little group had noticed   
that they were lagging and had allowed them a horse for the last half   
of the march.  
And so . . . they arrived at a seaport.  
Jadyrn had discerned early on that the band of Mrrukians that had   
taken them captive did not seem to be part of the main invasion force   
. . . rather, they seemed to be independent workers, taking what they   
could get from the invasion and making their own tidy profit from it.   
He didn't suppose that skimming the profits was anything new.  
They were delivered to another group of Mrrukians . . . sailors.   
In other words . . . slave-traders. Their captors had been paid with   
gold and then had departed, no doubt to caught up with the rest of   
their army before they were too long missed.  
The slave-traders had lined them up along the pier and the   
"Captain" was inspecting them in turn. He paused before Artana and   
took her face in his hands, sparing a glance for Raslym who stood   
resolutely next to her. "Ah, any man'd give his eyeteeth to bed one   
of you two lovelies!"  
Artana struggled and turned her face, trying both to get as far   
away from him as possible and to avoid inhaling his foul breath.   
Raslym, who was not so restrained, lashed out with her right foot and   
kicked her captor squarely in the stomach when he moved on to inspect   
her.  
He doubled over and let go of her, but as she turned to run she   
was faced with another Mrrukian. "Yes, we'll have fun with this   
one," he growled, advancing on her.  
"No, thou wilt not!" Jadyrn's voice rang out.  
"And what're you gonna do about it, pretty boy?" the Mrrukian   
spat.  
Jadyrn held his temper and laughed contemptuously. "Don't think   
that I don't know what thou planst to do with the four of us. We're   
far too valuable for use as thy *own* galley slaves - thou wouldst   
fetch a better price selling us to slavers on the mainland . . . say   
in Estvia? The women are ladies . . . untouched. Ten times as much   
would be due thee now, without any . . . unpleasantness. I can see   
that thou art businessmen, and thou knowst just as well as I, how   
much more thou wouldst get were the ladies to remain . . . pure."  
The Mrrukian paused, then spat again and turned away. "Enough,   
worm. Ye're too smart fer yer own good. Nobody touches the wenches.   
Chain 'em up! Not the two men t'gether . . . I don't want 'em tryin'   
t'make any plans t'escape. Chain the men and the wenches up  
t'gether."  
"But how'll we know that they ain't gonna do nothing?!" one of the   
crew protested.  
The head Mrrukian spat again. "Don't ye know *nothing*?! Them's   
gennelmun. Won't never harm a lady . . . An' if they *do* . . . I   
ain't got no scruples 'bout offing the two a them. Men ain't worth   
half so much as two fine wenches. Now, git goin'!"  
  
In the hold the Mrrukians proceeded to chain the four of them up.   
Artana to Kunzyn and Raslym to Jadyrn. They were chained to opposite   
sides of the hold, the chain firmly attached to a ring embedded in   
the floor. When the Mrrukians had left and they were left alone,   
Artana began pulling on her chain. "Oh, great," she chatted as she   
pulled harder, the muscles in her arms straining. "We have been   
captured by pirates and if that was not the worst of it, I am chained   
up to *thee*." She made a face.  
"Don't sound so happy about it." Kunzyn looked over at her and   
before they knew it both of them had burst into slightly hysterical   
laughter.  
  
Across the hold, Raslym and Jadyrn eyed each other, she warily, he   
with a surface calm that belied his true emotions. "This cannot bode   
well," Raslym said, looking away at last.  
Jadyrn raised his hand debating whether or not to place it on her   
arm . . . but decided against it. Instead, he turned away as well.   
"Aye, Lady. But perhaps 'tis a good omen . . . The choice of   
pairs?"  
She looked over at him, her eyes surprised. That was the last   
thing she would have suspected him to say. She wondered at the   
words. The choice of pairs?  
  
  
Monica and Aros.  
  
Artana and Kunzyn.  
  
Raslym and Jadyrn.  
  
Immara and Nephrayn.  
  
Marayr and Zoyzer.  
  
Serenity and Endymion.  
  
The Journey has just begun . . .  
  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
Um, sorry, I meant to write more about the rest of the pairs but I   
had to cut it off! I'll explain exactly what happened to Marayr,   
Monica, and Aros next time! And, we'll see how everyone else is   
doing. Okay? I'll be in California until the end of August . . . so   
no new parts until I'm back! Gomen! Ja ne! I love you all, minna!  
  
Oh, and if you go to my webpage:  
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Palace/3649/index.html  
you'll find a character guide with background info for "C&K." Ha!   
That's *one* way of getting you to visit! Bai bai!  
  



	5. Chapter Five: Adversity Shared

Disclaimer: Sailor Moon does not belong to me. It belongs to Naoko  
Takeuchi and a great many wonderful people who, if they were so  
inclined, could make things very unpleasant for me. (However, they   
are all MUCH too generous and benevolent to do any such thing.) This   
is a work of fiction and while the original idea does not belong to   
me, this story does. Remember that, because if you don't, I'm   
sending the Senshi after you . . . .  
  
  
Castles and Kingdoms  
  
by Fushigi Kismet  
  
  
Chapter Five  
~Adversity Shared~  
  
  
  
"When thou didst leave . . . I couldst not but feel that something was   
amiss. I made as though to follow thee but Aros stayed me . . ." Marayr   
looked thoughtfully over at Monica. "He does know what he is about."  
Zoyzer nodded. "So I have seen."  
Monica sniffed contemptuously and would meet neither of their eyes.  
They spared a moment to look at her curiously before Marayr continued.   
"Aros had sensed that trouble wast brewing and told me to hurry to their   
lodgings and bring the rest of Endymion's retinue, rounding up as many of the   
men as I could on the way. As I made my way to the exit I managed to gather   
three, but we were pressed for time and made our way out of the dance.   
Something ominous pervaded the air and I feared for our safety."  
She shook her head against remembered terror and continued. "We quickly   
rounded up the rest of the remaining men. They numbered twelve altogether.   
While we were returning to the ballroom, Aros met us with the Lady Marayr and   
informed us that invaders from Estvia had come over the far wall and that the   
king and queen were dead. Caution was needed, he informed us. The men   
continued on to see what could be done about the hostages after agreeing on a   
place to meet . . . this shelter, which Monica suggested. Monica was to lead   
us to it, and, once ascertaining its position, he was to return to meet with   
the men and provide them with what assistance he could and lead them and any   
survivors back here. As we were making our way through one of the gardens,   
the approach of several of the invaders forced us into hiding, whereupon we   
discovered thou. We brought thou to this shelter and Aros has gone to meet   
with Endymion's retinue."  
He caught her hand up in his. "Truly, I owe thee, Monica, and Aros a debt   
too great to ever be repaid."  
Her cheeks flushed pink and she smiled soothingly at him. "'Twas   
something anyone would do. Thou didst almost give thy life in defense of us.   
'Tis I should be thanking you."  
He wanted to pull her closer to him so that he could drink in the richness   
of her eyes, could test the softness of her lips, but with the presence of   
Monica and in his present state that was an impossibility. Instead, he   
settled for saying, "The beauty of thy eyes art thanks enough for me."  
Any reply she might have made to that remark was forever lost as the sound   
of sobbing and cries of pain rent the air.  
Monica reported from where she sat near the door, "It seems as though   
Aros's mission was successful . . . The survivors have arrived."  
Marayr shut her eyes and gave thanks.  
"Then everyone is safe?" Zoyzer asked, pressing Marayr's hands tighter as   
she seemed to squeeze his for strength.  
Her blue eyes looked steadily into his. "But for the dead and wounded.   
'Tis yet to be seen who may still be unaccounted for."  
  
"Art thou all right?" Nephrayn queried, his eyes on Immara as he returned   
from his short scouting expedition in the woods.  
"Yes," she replied, still short of breath from their frantic flight.   
"Have we lost our pursuers?"  
"Indeed, my lady," he said, crouching down next to her and glancing around   
the large tree trunk they were hiding behind.  
"And the others?" she asked.  
"There is no sign."  
She sighed. Whether in exhaustion or despair he could not be certain. In   
the darkness they had quickly been separated from the rest. It had been   
nearly six hours since they had seen anyone but the Mrrukians who were still   
doggedly pursuing them. They had seen the last of the Mrrukians a little   
over an hour ago, and both were doubtful that they had lost them for good.  
Feeling that he should say something to lighten the mood and reassure her   
and himself, Nephrayn said, "Fear not, they wilt be found."  
"I have no doubt of it, but by whom is the question. Us . . . or them?"  
In the confusion of their escape he had been able to piece together very   
little of what had occurred, but he was certain he had seen Aros putting   
order to the chaos. "Aros is a good man. If it is indeed he who didst   
organize the rescue, then they are in good hands, Lady."  
"Forgive me. I did not mean to malign the name of thy friend. 'Tis   
simply . . . Serenity, Harmony, and the others art the only family remaining   
to me. I fear for their safety more than for my own." She couldn't suppress   
the tears trailing down her cheeks.  
"Thou dost well to think of their welfare before thy own," he murmured,   
gently brushing away her tears. "But worry wilt do neither them nor thou any   
good, my Lady Immara."  
She looked up at him, her green eyes luminous in the starlight. "I have   
behaved as a spoiled child with thou in the past. Please, I would be most   
honored were thou to address me as Immara."  
"Immara then," he said, smiling, pleased despite himself. "Dry thy eyes,   
Immara, and we wilt be on our way."  
She brushed the tears from her eyes and smiling tremulously, took his hand   
in hers. "Thank thee, Lord Nephrayn, for thy understanding."  
  
The Mrrukian sailor paced amongst them, flinging down bowls of foul-  
smelling gruel whose contents had been hastily filled and half of which as   
hastily slopped out upon contact with the straw-covered wooden floor. "Eat,   
ye vermin," he hissed out, staring at them and eyeing the women in a manner   
that made both Artana and Raslym want to scratch out his eyes. Fearful for   
their safety, however, they satisfied themselves with spitting on him.  
He laughed. "Feisty, eh? Ye won't be so feisty once our buyers have ye   
flat on your backs." He moved closer to Raslym, leering, his eyes roaming   
over her body. "I wouldn't mind having ye flat on yer back right now,   
firebrand."  
She shrank away from him, fear filling her eyes.  
"The lady will have nothing to do with thee, sir. And if thou wilt kindly   
remember thy Captain's mandate I wilt not be forced to make that mandate   
*painfully* clear," Jadyrn gritted out.  
"Aye," the sailor said, turning his head and spitting. "And ye're the one   
who spoiled all our fun this go around. We've never 'ad t'keep away from   
them wenches afore. Ship's cargo are fair game." He sneered. "And they'd   
be too, iffen you hadden gone interferin'."  
"But think of all the money thou shalt make," Jadyrn said calmly,   
recognizing that behind all his bluster the sailor would not dare to make a   
move on the women.  
"All the money the *Captain*'ll make, ye mean! He'll fill 'is pocket sure   
enough and leave us scrabblin' fer a few coins."  
"Surely not. And even so, there will likely be enough for you to buy   
yourself the services of a few cheap whores."  
Artana and Raslym blinked at the vulgar language and Artana looked on   
Jadyrn with slowly growing understanding.  
The Mrrukian snorted. "Aye, the last shipload we brought over. I've   
sampled their wares often enough." He leered once more at Raslym. "A few of   
them were feisty enough to take you on. But we broke 'em in soon enough."   
His eyes glittered malevolently in remembrance. "'Tis a shame. I *like* the   
wild ones."  
With another look at Jadyrn's cold eyes, he turned away. "I've wasted   
enough time 'ere with you fishbait. Eat yer meal. It might be a clear day   
afore ye see another."  
"Pardon," Jadyrn said grimly and with less courtesy than the word implied,   
"but there art only three bowls."  
"Eh? Wassat ye say? Three bowls?"  
"Yes, three!" Kunzyn said from across the hold, noting his and Artana's   
two. "Can't you count?"  
"I sees four," the Mrukkian said, shrugging. "An' if we be a little   
short, who's to know? Iffen I can't have my share o' other pleasures I'll   
settle fer a full stomach." He looked at Jadyrn, his eyes gleaming. "If   
ye've such an objection, then ye can go without. You'll find none o' that   
gen'rous nature that you ascribe t'from me, pretty boy."  
"Very well," Jadyrn said stiffly. "But leave the women be."  
He glared at the blonde Guardian with thinly masked malevolence. "Well, I   
'ave me orders, don' I?" He strode out of the hold, his boots clumping   
across the floor.  
  
Artana pulled as far away as she could as he passed and found herself   
pressed against Kunzyn. She flushed and made as though to pull away, but he   
held her close and their eyes met for an instant, luminous in the dark of the   
hold.  
When the sound of the sailor's boots had faded and the sound of the hold   
door closing met their ears, leaving them in near complete darkness once   
more, Kunzyn gently removed the arm that had been holding her against him.   
"Apologies, Lady Artana."  
She nodded in reply, unable to see his face for the darkness, but she did   
not move from her position against him, her breath coming overly loud to her   
ears. Despite her many suitors, she had rarely been so close to a man.   
Certainly not while dancing, which was where decorum had to be observed at   
all times. Even potential suitors could not take advantage of opportunities   
for closeness for fear of causing a scandal and disgracing themselves and   
their Houses. She wondered if a man like Kunzyn would take advantage of such   
a situation as the one they found themselves in or if he was as honor-bound   
as the rest . . . as Jadyrn seemed to be. It was then she realized that she   
had yet to dance with this man.  
"Thou owest me a dance," she whispered.  
He tugged at the heavy links chaining his leg to the ring in the floor.   
"'Tis a bit hard to dance well like this," he said apologetically.  
"Nevertheless," she protested, "I did promise thee a dance."  
He bent his head to her ear and whispered, "Aye, I shall take thou at thy   
word and come to claim my dance someday, Lady Artana."  
And she wondered if a dance was all that he would claim.  
"Here," he said, pushing a bowl of gruel towards her, "eat. Thou shalt   
need thy strength for the voyage ahead."  
Her nose wrinkled in disgust and she looked appealingly up at him as   
though she expected it was within his power to turn the gruel into a proper   
feast. He stifled the laugh that rose at the little girl pleading in her   
eyes. I'm glad I'm not her father.  
Her lips formed into a pout that he found simply delightful and she   
shifted against him, reaching for the cracked bowl of foul-smelling gruel.   
As she blew on the contents to cool them and he stared at her kissable lips,   
he again thought, more fervently than before, I'm glad I'm not her father.  
She turned to look at him and asked, "Art thou not going to eat thine?"   
whereupon he was startled out of his study of her and hastily picked up his   
own bowl. They clicked them together carefully because of the glop that was   
oozing down the side of his and oozing through the cracks in hers.  
They each took a sip, made a face of disgust, and continued eating.  
Kunzyn paused to yell, "Worry not, Jadyrn, thou hast not missed out on   
anything edible! If thou wisht mine, I wilt attempt sliding it towards   
thee."  
Jadyrn waved a hand in dismissal. "'Twould be a waste to have it topple   
over."  
"'Twould not!" Kunzyn shot back after another taste.  
Raslym held out her bowl to him. "Please, eat some of mine."  
"The Lady needs her sustenance," he said, pushing it gently back.  
"And if my protector has no strength?" she asked archly. "Who wilt   
protect me from the advances of the Mrrukians?"  
The edge of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. "The Lady   
seems quite capable of keeping the beasts at bay."  
"Please?" And there was an element of true sincerity in that word that he   
could not deny. He took the bowl, sipped at the gruel, and passed it back to   
her.  
"Thou simply wishes for me to eat it so thou hast less of it," he accused   
her lightly.  
"Yes! Please," she moaned, staring at it. They looked at one another and   
laughed gently.  
  
The survivors of the raid on the castle rested in the Mytten Caverns,   
fifteen miles south of the castle. They had stayed in the uncertain safety   
of the shelter in the woods while the wounded were tended to, then Aros had   
forced them to march until a few of the ladies' legs had begun to give out,   
and the wounded had not been able to go on further. The Mytten Caverns,   
before a place of spiritual renewal was now a temporary home to a wayward   
band of homeless Reyrese nobles and Dalaynian guards. A few fish and rabbits   
roasted over several paltry fires they had started with the first light of   
morning in an attempt to warm frozen bodies and comfort despairing hearts.  
"We cannot remain long," Aros reminded the group once again, but most of   
them had drifted off into an uneasy sleep. Even now they were fearful that   
the Mrrukians would see the trails of smoke and discover their whereabouts.  
"At least they sleep," Monica said softly, from behind where he sat,   
bringing with her a handful of wild berries she had found in the surrounding   
woods and deemed safe for ingestion. "They feel safe enough for that, at   
least."  
He looked at her for a long instant, wishing he could tell her that he   
wished that she was safe, that she had never been involved in this whole mess   
to begin with. That he wished he could go back eight years and make right   
his wrongs. Instead, he said, turning away, "Yes, and thank the Gods they   
have this moment to rest."  
He felt her fingers curling around his hand, opening it and placing some   
of the berries inside before withdrawing. He looked up at her and she looked   
back for an instant before looking away. "You should get some rest, too,"   
she murmured, standing and moving away. She let her fingers rest lightly on   
Zoyzer's shoulder, depositing the rest of the berries in his hand as she sat   
down next to him. "Both of you."  
Marayr stirred from her spot on the ground, her head leaning against   
Zoyzer's arm which she had barely finished bandaging before dropping off into   
light slumber. She opened her eyes and moved her lips around the berry that   
had been inserted in her mouth. Swallowing, she looked at Zoyzer, who winked   
at her and, having divided his share in two, handed her half over. She took   
them gratefully as she sat upright with a murmured apology for having   
inconvenienced him, sleeping on his injured arm, no less, which he waved off,   
replying that it was hard to remember that he even hurt when every inch of   
him was injured. Her smiling face had worked more wonders on that arm than   
all the healing herbs in the world, to which she had smiled. She ate the   
berries one by one . . . seeking to make the taste last and perhaps fill the   
emptiness in her stomach.  
"At least everyone's organized and we know who isn't accounted for," Aros   
said, drawing in the dirt with a stick he had picked up off the ground.  
Zoyzer shrugged as best he could with his injuries. "We do what we can."  
"How are Harmony and the others?" Marayr asked, glancing over at the three   
unconscious women who lay near another campfire.  
"Harmony stirred a bit," Monica reported. "They should be rousing soon."  
"Which is good," Aros said, with a sigh. "'Tis difficult enough to move   
about without carting around three unconscious women."  
Marayr forced herself to be silent and continue eating berries. Aros had   
saved them and he was stretched to the breaking point at the moment. Unkind   
words could not be blamed on anything but his desperation at the situation   
they found themselves in. Zoyzer's comforting hand on hers made her   
gratitude towards him all the greater. She turned her attention back to what   
Aros.  
"Our best bet is to head for Dalayne," Aros said, urgently. "We can get   
reinforcements and bring the King's Army to counter Estvia's forces. Their   
attack on Reyre while the head of Dalayne was here, no less, can surely be   
construed as an attack against Dalayne itself. If I know Endymion as well as   
I believe, then our prince wilt surely be heading there as we speak."  
"And if Serenity is indeed in his company," Marayr cried, with dawning   
hope.  
"But who wilt care for the injured and keep these people safe?" Monica   
demanded. "Estvia has laid claim to Reyre. We can do nothing for the common   
people now that their army has control, but for the nobles . . . They are   
the heads of the country now. If the princess cannot be found, the future of   
Reyre depends upon them."  
"Yes," Aros said, pondering, "we must keep them safe."  
"They cannot yet have penetrated to the sea," Marayr said slowly. "They   
wilt concentrate on establishing a central power in the capital first, wilt   
they not? If we can make it to the sea . . ."  
"Indeed," Aros said. "The city of Sancte on the island of Milpa should be   
a safe enough place to keep them for the time being."  
"But which ports are safe?" Zoyzer demanded. "They have to have access to   
the Western ports at least."  
"Amisu."  
They turned to look at Marayr, who was looking at them fiercely. "The   
village of my birth is on the Eastern coast. It must be safe."  
"But it's a ways from Milpa," Aros argued. "The port of Wilta is closer   
and, I bargain, also free from Estvian influence so far."  
"However," Zoyzer interjected, "for those traveling to Dalayne, Amisu is a   
safer bet."  
"Do I take it that thou art volunteering?" Aros asked, with a small smile.  
"Aye. I know the route by sea well enough and can charter a ship. We   
wilt land in Amaran and that will acquire us the help we need quick enough.   
There's not a man, woman, or child I do not know in that fair city."  
"But how wilt thou be sure that the ship and crew from Amisu are to be   
trusted? Surely, the Estvians must have some spies."  
"I shall accompany him," Marayr said suddenly, making up her mind.   
"There's not a trick in the book that wilt get past me. I was born and bred   
there . . . I shalt find thou the sturdiest, fastest ship on the sea."  
"That's that then," Aros said, settling the matter as Zoyzer and Marayr   
gazed at one another, the one with eyes full of worry, the other with shining   
determination. "But I am not familiar enough with the terrain of Reyre to   
get these people to Wilta."  
"I shall be thy guide," Monica said calmly, rising and dusting off her   
dress. "There is not a city in all of Reyre that I have not been to in the   
company of Her Highness."  
Aros inclined his head in response to her offer. "I thank thee."  
"I am not doing it for thee," she said coldly.  
"And did thee think to take us into account?" a voice said from behind   
them.  
They whirled around in alarm to see Harmony, Odele, and Simyra standing   
behind them, bloody certainly, and a bit worse for wear, but smiling   
nonetheless.  
"We will go to the island of Yanithas," Harmony said, smiling with cracked   
and bloodied lips, her hand holding her other, injured arm. "I know for a   
fact that half the Reyre fleet is on maneuvers there."  
"Harmony, thou art in no shape-" Marayr protested, getting to her feet,   
but Harmony cut her off with a wave of her hand.  
"Is my cousin among the survivors?" she asked quietly, and Marayr knew she   
was speaking of Immara.  
"Lady Immara was last seen while the rest of us were making good our   
escape," Monica said calmly. "Several of them," she gestured towards the   
exhausted refugees, "reported seeing both Immara and Nephrayn behind them.   
We can only assume that they were separated in the fray, but to the extent of   
our knowledge, she is alive."  
"Thank the Gods for that," Odele said quietly, speaking for her life   
partner Harmony who was attempting to blink back tears.  
"I promised her," Harmony said slowly. "I promised her that I would stay   
alive. She has to do the same. Immara, thou must stay alive."  
"It will be all right," Simyra put in. "Nephrayn seems trustworthy   
enough. She is safe in his keeping."  
"Aye. Nephrayn will take excellent care of the lady," Aros said. "No   
need to fear on that account. Now, what's this about the Reyre navy?"  
"Leave the fetching of them in our hands," Harmony said sharply. "I thank   
thee for thy care and shall entrust the care of these people to thee, but the   
three of us will fetch them."  
"Harmony, rest awhile first," Marayr said, looking at her with eyes that   
said, 'be reasonable.' "The first light is only just broken . . . there's   
time enough to travel after a bit of rest. Let us solidify our plans first."  
"Very well," Harmony said, and the three newly awakened seated themselves   
around the fire. Her eyes were on Aros as she spoke and he inclined his head   
in acknowledgement and using his stick, began drawing a crude map in the dirt   
by his feet. He started outlining the plan.  
Zoyzer pulled Marayr outside the little group, his eyes anxious. "'Tis a   
dangerous mission thou hast volunteered thyself for. I would beg thee to   
reconsider, but I must admit that I have need of thy skills."  
She smiled at him. "I shalt not fail thee. And no worries, dear friend,   
'twill be a warm day in the Northlands before I fail to carry through on a   
promise made. We wilt make it to thy city of Amaran . . . and we wilt bring   
the help that Reyre so desperately needs."  
He grasped her hands in his. "Aye, Lady. Then 'twill be so."  
  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
Yes, I know. Serenity and Endymion were conspicuously absent. More on them   
and Nephrayn and Immara later on. This Chapter was supposed to be ~Securing   
Passage~ but I didn't even get that far. ^^;;; So either ~Securing Passage~   
or another chapter will be next . . . As the groups get farther and farther   
apart, more and more of the chapter will be devoted to one specific pair, and   
the next chapter will focus on a different one. Well, until we start getting   
to the end, that is . . . but that's a LOOOOONG ways away. As always, you   
can find the character list and descriptions on the "C&K" page at   
http://www.geocities.com/fushigikismet/  
  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Expect more soon! ^_^  
  



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